Roommate
by fadedlines
Summary: Matt is lonely and bored, but reasonably content in his own little rut of gaming and sleeping. However, his peaceful, if unrewarding existence is complicated when he gets a new room-mate. Will eventually be slash.
1. Mess And Matt

The room was dark, lit only by the flickering light of the television screen as some b-rate horror game showed on the screen. The air was dank with the smell of teenage boy, cigarette smoke and moldering food. Grunting softly, Matt hammered at the controller, XX triangle X. The zombie fell to its knees, mouth open in a silent moan as the hero slashed it with a chainsaw. The repetitive bashing of buttons and mindless plotless destruction of the game was boring but helped him work out his frustration with his life.

Matt was not normally a guy much given to introspection and dwelling on unfortunate events, but he couldn't help feeling a little bitter about the turn his life had taken. For years his life had been normal; he had lived with his mum, an overworked single mother, in a small apartment in California, America. Okay it hadn't been entirely normal sincehe hadn't gone to school since first grade, opting to stay and home and play video games and mess around on the computer instead, studying only enough that the authorities wouldn't make him go back to school, but he'd been happy enough. Then he had to mess it all up. If he hadn't paid attention to that stupid competition…

There'd been a website advertising itself to hackers as a challenge. Loads had tried to break into it, and all had failed. Until him. Mail Jeevas, 12 years old and a hacker extraordinaire, which had brought him to the attention of Wammy House and had lead to him being stuck here. Okay, that may have been 2 years ago, and he might be generally quite okay with living here, but it was his birthday, a time that always brought back memories. And no one had remembered. The second of January. Not a good start to the New Year.

"Dammit!"

Angrily Matt rose in one swift movement, cursing as he watched the message pop up on the TV screen informing him he had died. Sighing, he padded over to his desk, barely visible under the clutter of empty mugs, screwed up paper and towers of precariously balanced games. Knocking a few things off accidentally, and carefully re-arranging a few more he'd just managed to locate his laptop when there came a knock at the door.

Matt froze wide-eyed, an almost comic expression of dismay plastered on his face. Who the hell could that be…? Wildly he glanced round his room, confirming, that yes, it was a dingy tip, and yes, you could tell he'd been smoking. Frantically he opened the window, trying to let some fresh air in. The unknown knocker knocked again, this time managing to convey an air of impatience.

"Just a second," he yelped, kicking his washing into a corner and hurriedly cramming the closest trash to hand in his overflowing bin. Giving up, he went and opened the door, hoping not to get in too much trouble.

* * * * * * * *

"- really is your last chance. I don't know why you think you're above the rules but believe me…"

Yadda yadda ya. Mello tuned it out, putting his most bored and snotty expression on his face. Roger gave him the same lecture every time. Well what did they expect to happen, putting him and Near in the same room? They were just lucky he hadn't killed the little snotbag. He glared down at the dusty wooden floor. It was too bad they were putting him in with someone else. He would have liked a whole room to himself, still, he'd be able to housetrain his new roommate, using his influence as the person with the second highest score in Wammy's House, and if that didn't work, he could always just beat the crap out of them.

A pause in the constant flow of scolding told him that Roger had finally finished, and he looked up, catching the exasperated expression on the old mans face. Roger was getting on, but he was still a powerfully built, athletic looking man, however whenever he was forced to deal with Mello, he seemed for some unknown reason to appear much more weary than was normal for the energetic man. Next Mello scrutinized the door. It was a plain pine door, identical to the others lining the corridor, its sole distinguishing feature being that it was number 27. Mello put on his biggest and brightest glare.

Roger had started talking again at some point, and Mello caught some of it as he knocked on the door. "- don't expect you to become friends, but I do expect you to both learn to get on with it."

"Whatever old man, just shut up will ya?"

"Don't speak to me that way!"

Mello grinned and stared ahead; baiting Roger was fun.

Several minutes later he was still staring at the door. The closed door. "For crying out loud, are you sure this guy's alive?"

Roger clenched his fists tighter, causing some of his knuckles to crack, and a line deepened between his eyebrows. " Maybe he didn't hear."

Mello hammered on the door himself, impatience searing him.

Some muffled yelling then some heavy thuds. A brief pause then footsteps, and the door swung open.

"Sorry, I was just…"

Mello gaped at his new roommate, and the scene of chaos that lay beyond him. A wasteland of crumpled clothes, take-out cartons, games, tossed books and sheaves of spilled paper, the bed a mountain of covers half on half off the mattress itself, the other bed – his bed – seemed to be used as a dumping ground for clean (relatively speaking) clothes. The room itself stank of nicotine and was only dimly lit by a half opened window.

"Ah, Matt, this is your new roommate Mello. I'm sure I told you he was moving in today…" The unspoken rebuke in Roger's tone implied that the mess was not expected, but did not cheer up Mello immensely. He was supposed to live in this?

"Did you?"

Mello managed to tear his eyes away from the disaster zone of the room briefly, and rested them briefly on this guy, Matt. He looked almost as hopeless as the room. His skinny blue jeans had somehow managed to get creased, and his stripy black and white top had several stains down the front. He had some ridiculous orange goggles on his face and bright fake looking red hair that clashed with them spectacularly. To add to this he sounded genuinely bewildered by Rogers claim that he had warned him Mello was moving in, and was now staring at Mello himself rather like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

"No fucking way am I staying here."

"Mello…" Rogers tone held very little patience. Good.

Mello spun, turning on the older man in a flash, "This place isn't fit for a dog!" he spat, unconsciously tensing his whole body in preparation for confrontation.

"Well, it is rather messy," began Roger mildly.

"Have you seen it?" screamed Mello, gesticulating wildly.

"Well, you're not exactly in a position to choose where you stay, so you're just going to have to get on with it." Roger's eyes flashed steel and he propelled Mello in before slamming the door on him.

For a few seconds Mello could only stare in icy anger at the again closed door, but then his new roommate choose to start talking.

"So, uh… I guess we better tidy up a bit.

Coldly Mello fixed his most evil smirk on his face and turned around. His voice was dangerously low. "Who said anything about 'we'?"


	2. Chocolate And Cigarettes

A/N: Hello, I forgot to do one of these last chapter, well thank you to everyone who has read or reviewed or both (!) so far. I didn't think I was going to update so soon but I finished this chapter and thought I might as well. I'm not sure I understand how to reply to reviews, so if someone could let me know if I'm doing it right... Apart from that, please tell me if you think I got the characterization right. I'm not sure if Matt is a little too wimpy. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Eventually the room was almost tidy. True to his word, Mello had lain on his bed, studying German literature or something, while Matt tidied up. Honestly it did look better when the floor was visible, and it would come in useful having all his games in one place, but that didn't mean he couldn't feel a bit resentful towards the other boy for forcing him to do it.

Exhausted Matt slumped on the floor in front of the television and turned the PS2 on. Time for a change of pace; he grabbed one of the Grand Theft Autos and stuck it in the console, then settled down to some serious gaming.

Hours passed as he steadily worked his way through the game. He'd already completed it; this time round he was just trying to beat his time record in some of the races and unlock all the cars.

After a few hours Mello went to turn the light on, Matt spared a glance only to discover the older boy was still studying. Boring. After another hour Matt paused the game and went over to the food cupboard in an alcove of the room and rifled through absently. Pocky sticks, chili crisps, pretzels… Matt frowned, chocolate? He didn't remember stocking up on that. Oh well, he shrugged and grabbed a bar.

Back in front of the TV he ripped off the wrapper and bit off a large chunk, un-pausing the game and chewing mechanically. He wasn't overly fond of chocolate to be truthful, but it did give him a bit of a sugar rush, and increase his reaction time by a certain amount.

Over on the other bed Mello was forcing his weary brain to focus on the math's problems in front of him. Focus damn it, he yelled inwardly, glaring at the page of complicated logarithm questions. He hated the subject, and typically Near excelled at it. Near excelled in every subject. Mello's methods of solving problems lay more in his intuition and ability to think laterally, forming connections between seemingly unrelated facts, but it was hammered into him how it wasn't enough to be simply right, you had to show the method, have the proof… Mello wasn't poor at this – he couldn't be bad and still be number two in the rankings – he simply wasn't as meticulously logical and through as Near.

Sighing, he closed his eyes for a brief second, allowing his mind some brief respite. How he wanted to just chuck the book, lie on his bed and savor a bar of creamy chocolate…. He could almost taste the rich sweetness, smell its warm, decadent fragrance… His eyes snapped open. He was not imagining that smell.

"Choc-oh-lahttttte…." His voice was distorted with an almost bestial desire, and a sort of snarling anger. Silently he got to his feet, and advanced towards the unsuspecting figure of his red-haired roommate, who was innocuously consuming more of the precious substance.

Moving fluidly, he gave no warning before throwing himself with a snarl onto the boy, who cried out in shock and fear.

"Mineeee." He hissed, slamming Matt forcefully into the rough carpet, pinioning the boy under his own body weight, and then tearing the confectionery from his slack grasp.

Inspecting the chocolate Mello groaned aloud. Almost two lines of his coveted sweet were gone, consumed thoughtlessly as if it were a mere snack by the thoughtless idiot he was sitting on.

"Ow." The aforementioned idiot whimpered, struggling weakly. Mello turned an angry (and slightly insane) glare upon him.

"Keep your paws off my stuff." He reinforced the message by yanking a lock of the blood red hair viciously.

"Ow! Get off you freak, I didn't know it was yours, and there was no need to go mental was there!" Matt yelled angrily, flailing his limbs in a misguided attempt to displace Mello from his stomach. He wriggled, and craned his neck, then groaned as he saw the TV screen, "Now I need to restart the whole mission."

Rolling his eyes, Mello took a mouthful of chocolate to calm himself slightly, and helped the healing progress by kicking Matt non too gently in the ribs, "Frankly, I don't give a crap." he said in his most bored tones, before moving back to his bed again.

Grumbling, Matt rubbed his stomach gingerly, checking his kidneys hadn't been totally pulverized, then started sifting through the piles of games in search of one that would help him vent his feelings in this situation. Mortal Kombat? He certainly felt like breaking someone's spine in half and force-feeding them their own intestines right now.

He was musing on the pros and cons of Mortal Kombat in comparison to Soul Caliber, when his new roommate broke into his thoughts.

"Is that all you do? Play stupid video games?"

"No…" Matt tried to think of his other hobbies, "I do computer programming too, and…" he trailed off. What else did he do? Nothing really. He didn't hang out with anyone at Wammy, his old roommate had always been out, and he didn't see the point in studying when he did well enough from what he picked up on in class. It suddenly struck him how empty his life was.

"Lame." Mello seemed to echo his thoughts.

"Well do you do anything other than study?" he heard himself asking.

The blond boy stared at him blankly, as though he'd asked a stupid question. "I want to be number one, I can't waste time messing around with stupid kids games. Don't you want to be number one?"

Matt shrugged, "Not really."

"Why the hell not? Are you retarded or something?"

"No…" Matt glared at the blond. "I just don't see the point."

"What ranking are you?"

"Huh?"

"Are you sure you're not brain-dead?" Mello enunciated his words slowly and clearly, "What position did you get in testing?"

"Oh right. Fourteenth I think?" Matt scratched his nose thoughtfully, he was pretty sure he'd scored somewhere in the top twenty anyway.

"You think?" Mello could feel himself getting mad at the way this boy acted like it didn't matter what ranking he held. He clenched his fists, "Well, are you happy being fourteenth out of about forty?"

"It's not bad." Matt replied, feeling suddenly defensive under that icy blue glare.

"It's pathetic," sneered Mello, "Do you know my ranking?" He paused, waiting, then shook his head in disbelief, "I'm second all right? Second! Christ!"

"That's very good." Matt said soothingly, wondering if the other boy would go crazy if he put Mortal Kombat on.

Quick as thought Mello was up and invading Matt's personal space. "You think that's good, do ya?" One hand closed like an iron manacle around Matt's forearm. Hesitantly he nodded. Before he could flinch or break away a hand smashed into his face.

"What the –"

'You see," Mello continued quietly, almost serenely except for the fanatical glint in his eyes, "It really doesn't matter how good you are, if you're not first you're worthless. And if you don't even try you're less even than that." Releasing Matt's arm, he shoved the shorter boy away. "I can't respect someone who doesn't care."

Calmly as if he hadn't just whacked Matt in the face and cut him apart with his accurate but cruel analysis, Mello picked up his book again and laid back on his bed, leaving Matt standing numbly, one cheek red with the clear outline of a hand emblazoned across it, the other cheek flushed pink from embarrassment and anger. What should he do? Hit Mello back? The time for that had passed. He couldn't even think of anything witty to say. Damn but he needed a smoke.

Shakily he rummaged around his desk until he found a crumpled, half full carton and a plastic lighter. He pulled out a cigarette and walked over to the window, flicking his lighter automatically as he walked.

"No smoking in here."

"What?" Matt couldn't believe his ears as he turned and glared at the other.

Mello was coolly scratching at a piece of paper with a pen, eyes focused on the math's questions. He didn't even bother looking up. "I said, no smoking. You might not care that you're killing yourself but I have better things to do than inhale second hand smoke." Matt opened his mouth to argue but Mello cut him off before he could. "And before you get all territorial-like, you better believe I will turn you in to Roger, and he will kick your arse for endangering your precious mind." Mello laughed harshly, "Not sure he needs to be worried about that anyway."

Matt narrowed his eyes, then without comment opened his chest of drawers and pulled out his coat, before going to the door.

"Shower before you come back Game-Boy, you smell like shit." Mello called cheerily over his shoulder, taking another bite of chocolate.

His only reply was the sound of the door slamming.

Smirking Mello rolled over onto his back, knocking his exercise book and questions to the floor. He stretched feline-like, blue eyes wide and deceptively innocent, focused on the white ceiling above. Smiling a mean smile he snickered softly to himself, "'Bye Matt."


	3. Chance And A Challenge

A.N: Wow. This chapter is really long compared to the rest... I did try to cut it down, but I hate cutting out whole paragraphs, because I can never remember if I've referenced something later. So... I'm sorry if this chapter isn't very interesting, but I needed to introduce some semblance of a plot. Next chapter's going to be exciting I promise! Probably very long too though... Do you guys like long chapters? Thank you to everyone who reads and/or reviews, it means a lot.

* * *

Living with Mello didn't really get any easier, Matt concluded grimly a week later. Currently he was outside, freezing his arse off and hiding in a bush, just to have a fag. Hunching his head lower into the fluff of his fur trimmed sleeveless bomber jacket, Matt exhaled, watching the smoke dissolve into the cold air, then coughed, a nasty hacking cough, no doubt aggravated by the cold. A nagging voice in his head pointed out Mello could be right in saying smoking was damaging his health, but he ignored it stubbornly. God knows he wasn't taking health tips from someone who considered it reasonable to start the day with a bar or two of chocolate.

Sighing, he took one last drag, then dropped the dog-end and ground it out beneath his boot. Coughing again, he walked briskly through the frosty gardens, ignoring the brittle beauty of the frozen landscape; the stark beauty of the still-bare trees against the darkening sky, the briars still bereft of roses, instead clinging with spider webs jeweled with water droplets. Instead he focused on the building up ahead, a majestic shape in the gloom, that looked warm and inviting with yellow light shining out from the windows of all three stories.

Letting himself in via one of the side doors, Matt stood in the darkness, pondering where to go. Suddenly his room didn't feel particularly inviting, not filled as it was with Mello and the uncomfortable, tense atmosphere he created. Neither did the sound of one of the parlors, where there would doubtless be other children seem inviting. He could go to the library, but why would he want to?

Aimlessly he wandered along the dark corridor, passing the first two rooms by when he heard muted voices and laughter inside. The next door was locked, the door after led to a storage cupboard, but the next door revealed something interesting.

It was a room he had never been in before; newspaper clipping covered one whole wall, a map of the world with drawing pins, string and post-it notes dominated another, but it was the huge monitor connected to a sleek, state of the art processor that drew him forwards.

The computer was set up on the floor as if the person who used it preferred sitting there, and when he moved the mouse the screen lit up, showing a window demanding a username and password. Matt frowned; there wasn't even a keyboard as far as he could see. He moved the mouse around the screen, wondering if it operated using an on-screen keyboard, but he couldn't see one.

Puzzled, he then inspected the processor. There were several USB ports, a CD drive, and even a floppy disk drive, but nothing else. On the processor was a small remote. After looking it over Matt tried the button labeled ABC.

Instantly something he had taken for a webcam lit up, beeped and then spewed forth lasers.

Shrieking, he sprang away, convinced he was going to be dissected by some insane security trap. After a few second it became clear the lights weren't lasers, but were instead projecting a keyboard onto the floor.

Feeling rather foolish, Matt sat back down and grinned. This was so cool! Testing it out he tapped on the floor were the 'a' was projected. An 'a' appeared on the screen in the box designated for username. Quelling his excitement, Matt focused on the task in hand. Now he needed to break in. He frowned. It would be hard doing it here, without any of his stuff, and harder still without knowing who used the computer.

Well, simple deduction told him that this wasn't a computer set aside for the pupils of Wammy's house. The whole room looked like something used for serious business. There were the teachers, but they were only allowed in the house for lessons. That left Roger, and perhaps Wammy himself, although he was rarely here, and the newspaper clippings on the wall looked recent. Matt smirked; Roger was intelligent, but fairly predictable. His username and password were no doubt complicated, but he'd probably written them down, and knowing the elder man's impatience, probably hidden it somewhere near by.

Excitedly Matt leapt to his feet and began searching the room quickly. He found it easily; a scrap of paper hidden under several newspaper clippings. Matt also noted as he carefully replaced the newspaper clippings that they all seemed to be about unsolved crimes across the world. Several were written in English, a few in Russian, French, Spanish or German, which he could read, a few in Japanese which he could recognize and the rest in myriad other languages.

He went back and typed.

Username: 0002

Password: Rgy2Lx

The computer screen instantly went blank and for a moment Matt wondered if the password had been a decoy, and he'd now set off alarms that would bring Roger thundering down here. To his relief the screen flickered then resolved itself. It was still white but there was a small taskbar with the symbol for Internet, a mail symbol and a few more he didn't recognize.

Curious, he clicked on the mail button. Instantly a window popped up, displaying both messages sent and received, mainly from a sender called 0009, and a few from other numbers. Matt eagerly clicked on one of the emails, only to have another window pop up demanding he enter another code. He tried the password again, but this code had to be completely numerical. Reluctantly he clicked off. He didn't have time to hack into it now.

Instead he clicked on one of the other symbols; this one looked like a sort of circle with squiggly lines on it. Another window opened.

"Wow." He let out a low whistle.

It was a satellite photomap of the earth, which when he held his mouse over it displayed the name of the country and 'Current cases'. He clicked the zoom button and watched as the picture pixilated and then resolved into a close up of the country. He'd zoomed in on America. There were a number of red dots tossed across several states and out of curiosity he held his mouse above one. 0126 appeared.

"The numbers must stand for people." Matt mused.

"What are you doing in here?"

For the second time that evening Matt screamed like a girl. Heart pounding he looked round towards the strange voice. A young boy was standing in the doorway. Matt sighed with relief that it wasn't Roger. "I'm…. doing some research for Wammy. What are you doing here?" Matt tried to look disapprovingly down at the young boy, "You're not allowed in here."

Ignoring Matt, the boy padded over to the monitor, then scrutinized it with strange blank eyes. Those eyes creeped him out. They reminded him of one-way mirrors, allowing the boy to look out, but not allowing anyone to look back in. The boy leant closer to the monitor, the bright light bleaching all color from his already pale skin.

"Liar." That monotonous voice. Those eyes flicked sharply to catch his briefly then flicked back to the screen. Matt shivered sensing a sharp intelligence, which made him suspect the boy was older than he looked.

"Excuse me?"

"You've managed to break into the computer, but you are not authorized to use this account. You will be in trouble." The words were delivered without malice; the boy was just stating a fact.

"Wh-what do you know about it?" Matt stammered, fiddling nervously with his goggle straps.

"As number one I have my own account."

"Number one?"

"Yes." The boy turned his blank, eerily childlike face back to Matt's. "I am Near."

* * *

Meanwhile, on the second floor Mello was prowling. Any passing kids hurried past him, his reputation sending them scurrying. He'd been studying almost constantly this last week, looking back over past cases, and consequently he hadn't spoken to Near since the day he moved out of their room. Seems like the little brat might be having too easy a time of it now. That wouldn't do.

He stopped in front of door 12, and then rapped on the door. No point in hammering on it and hollering for Near to open. Knowing the kid he'd probably just ignore it and carry on building his card towers or some other crap. He waited patiently for a minute or so, then started kicking the door with his boots, "Let me in you little coward!"

"I presume you're looking for Near."

The cool tones almost made Mello jump, but he controlled himself and instead swung around to glare down at the plump girl observing him. "Whatd'ya want Number Three?" he sneered.

Blandly the girl blinked, then shrugged and turned as if to go. "I suppose you wouldn't be interested in anything I had to say then."

Mello ground his teeth, but restrained from punching her. "Okay Chance, where is he?" he spat out curtly.

Chance almost smiled, "He's in the News room."

* * *

Stealthily Mello ran down the stairs, careful not to make any noise on the wooden staircase; behind him Chance followed like an annoying shadow. He glared maliciously back at her, but didn't bother telling her to get lost. Right now he had bigger fish to fry.

He stopped in front of the News room and frowned. What was Near doing here anyway? Maybe Near was studying too, looking back over the past cases and perhaps even at the current ones. Damn it! Why hadn't he thought of using this room?

Abandoning stealth at the last moment he kicked the door, sending it crashing into the wall. Behind him he could sense, if not hear Chance's displeasure, and from the room in front came a high pitched squeal.

Smirking, he paused to take it all in then frowned. What the hell was Matt doing here with Near? He felt an intense burst of displeasure, and his feelings of dislike towards the shaken redhead sharpened. Near himself looked as damningly unruffled as ever, those expressionless eyes half-lidded impassively. Just once, Mello wanted to get to him, wanted to see that impenetrable mask slip from his rival.

Aware that his dramatic entrance had not had quite the effect he'd hoped for, he stalked into the room. "What's this? Having a party without me? And here was me thinking you didn't have friends Matty-boy." He shook his head and tsked in fake disbelief, then glanced slyly up at Near, "Come to think of it, I didn't think you had friends either Near." He smiled at the smaller boy cruelly.

"I don't." Near said it without pause or inflection, showing no sign that he was affected by Mello's taunting, something which made the anger burn hotter within Mello. "I just walked in on Number 11 breaking into the system."

Mello allowed himself to be briefly sidetracked. Matt breaking into something? Matt actually having the motivation to do something? Wonders would never cease.

"I'd better inform Roger."

Matt turned a sickly shade of pale.

Mello turned to glare at Chance. "Don't."

She raised an eyebrow, faint surprise cracking her mask. She was no challenge. She may slavishly imitate Near in her foolish bids to usurp him, but she was a poor copy and Mello despised her for it.

"Matt's managed to show some initiative for once in his dull little life, I don't think telling on him will encourage him to do it again."

Chance's pebble-like eyes bored into his skull, "Why should I care about him?"

Mello rolled his eyes wearily, "Think. It's not really about him is it? You just want to smarm up to Roger and try to replace me. Roger wouldn't really care he broke into the system, he's more likely to reward Matt for his talent, and the only person who cares if he gets a higher ranking is you."

Near joined in then, "Mello's logic is sound. Matt is in no danger of getting in trouble from Roger."

"Then why the hell did you say I was?" exclaimed Matt, turning angrily on Near.

Near blinked once, then replied, "I wanted you to leave. I want to use this computer."

"What?" Matt's disbelieving expression was almost laughable.

"You're not as dumb as I thought." Mello conceded grudgingly, thinking aloud.

Near nodded, "He got into the computer. He should be higher in the rankings than 11th."

"He told me 14th." Mello narrowed his eyes at Matt, who was looking uncomfortable at all the attention."

"Last time I checked I was..."

"He's not that smart if he got caught." Chance interjected, talking over Matt, but she looked suddenly doubtful.

"Smarter than you." Mello jeered without thinking.

"Yes, again I agree." Near nodded thoughtfully, crouching on the ground to better examine the miniature projector.

"What?" Chance's cheeks flushed an ugly shade of red, shocking in her normally pallid face. "Bu-but, he's only 11th. He's irrelevant!" she stammered.

"Because he puts no effort in. He could beat you easy." Mello continued to goad her, surprised and pleased at the effect of his absent minded jibe, and enjoying the way her emotionless façade was crumbling beyond repair.

"No…It's impossible." She gaped at Matt, who shifted uncomfortably, then suddenly burst into tears and ran out of the room.

"That was unkind." Near commented idly.

For once Mello wasn't paying any attention to his rival. "Matt, you have to beat her."

Matt stopped, looking after her, "Huh? No way! Why should I bother?"

In an instant he was once more lying on the ground, regretting saying anything while pinned under Mello's boot.

"You'll do it." Mello grinned maliciously, leaning on Matt a little more.

Matt's pride refused to let him give in completely. "What's in it for me?" he gasped.

Mello considered him for a moment, then sighed, and took his foot off Matt's chest. "I won't crush you like an insect…. And you can smoke in our room."

"Deal."


	4. Anger And Arson

A.N: These chapters keep growing... I don't know why this one's so long since I don't think much actually happens, but I gave up worrying about it. What do you think of Chance? Hope you all had a good New Year, thanks for reading :)

* * *

It was one thing to promise something, another to make it happen. Matt couldn't help reflecting on the intrinsic truth of this over the next few weeks. In order to 'encourage' him, Mello had taken his PS2. And his N64. And his Dreamcast. Even his Gameboy had mysteriously vanished over night. Matt leveled a weary glare over his book in the direction of the blond. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone so long without decapitating a zombie or shooting someone in the head.

Returning his gaze he tried to force his mind to focus. 'It seems in addition to the complication of various schemas formed in early childhood, there were other outside forces influencing the killers state of mind….' Interesting though the subject was, today his brain did not want to focus. He set the book down, and sat up, swinging his legs off the bed to rest on the floor. Lifting his goggles to allow himself to rub at his bleary eyes he reflected on how much work studying was.

Actually, it was a little damaging to his pride to see in class how Mello automatically knew every answer, could solve every problem with ease. Not that the blond ever noticed, absorbed as he was in Near's accomplishments rather than his own. It was just, Matt supposed, that he too had believed arrogantly that he was capable of being more than number 14 or 11 or whatever, but because he had never tried, he'd never noticed how fierce the competition between rankings was, assuming it would be a simple matter to win the bet. Which would make it all the more galling if he bombed tomorrow's test and stayed in the same position.

Resolutely he stood, shaking his head as if he could shake off his doubts that easily, then grabbed a cigarette carton and walked out, failing to notice how Mello jerked his head up to watch him go, blue eyes narrowed contemplatively.

Back outside, in the now familiar shade of the holly bush, he lit up, listening with distant interest to the wheezing sound of his breathing. At least it was sunny today, he mused, blowing out a thin trail of smoke, the familiar acrid chemical taste already soothing his over-wrought mind. All he could do now was sit the test tomorrow and hope he passed. If not, who knew if he'd ever get his consoles back.

The day of the test was a surprisingly sunny one, given that it was still only late February, but Matt barely noticed. He felt nervous as they waited sedately outside the doors of the classroom. Well, that is, everyone apart from Mello waited sedately.

"Nervous Near?" Mello was grinning manically, looming over the small white-haired boy who ignored him, looking only at his finger puppets. "Hey! I'm talking to you," Mello shoved Near in the chest, making the younger boy stumble, but not look up, to Mello's contrition. "That's it!" Mello snarled, raising a fist.

To Matt's relief it was then the classroom door was opened, revealing row after row of equidistant desks in the long room. They filed in past the teacher, going silently to their desks. Matt found himself seated behind Mello, with Chance one desk away from him. The plain girl looked up as he glanced over, and their eyes met briefly, her expression turning sour as she saw him.

Uncomfortable Matt focused on his desk and the facedown inch-thick booklet on top of it. Unconsciously he wiped his sweating palms on his jeans.

"You may begin."

Several hours later Matt exited the room along with a rush of chattering students.

"-was really hard this time…"

"-once you figured out it was a negative integer it…"

"-really hope I get moved up now."

He slouched along, hand deep in pockets, aiming for the door whilst fumbling for a cigarette. "Sorry." He muttered as he nearly walked into someone. He looked up, "Oh, hey."

Mello was stood in front, gazing blankly at a patch of carpet. At the sound of Matt's voice he seemed to snap out of his daze, and looked up sharply. "How'd you do?"

Matt shrugged "Okay I guess… I'm not sure I'm gonna make third though."

Mello half-smiled. Matt started; it was quite possibly the only smile he'd ever seen Mello give that wasn't full of malice; it made the blond look almost friendly. "It doesn't matter. I didn't really expect you to get there that quick." The blond broke into his thoughts, confusing Matt even more; had Mello just offered reassurance?

Mello walked off, leaving Matt to stare dumbly after him. A few seconds later another thought occurred to him and he took a step forward, calling after his retreating roommate. "Hey! Does this mean I get my consoles back?"

"Sure. If you can find them."

Chuckling in spite of himself, Matt found he felt almost relieved that Mello was still taunting him. He didn't know what to make of a nice Mello.

* * *

The second the scoreboard went up the next day Mello went to look. Heart hammering, he roughly shoved his way through the crowd of students, ignoring the angry cries and dirty looks as he elbowed his way to the front. Grabbing onto his rosary, he made a vain attempt to pray; please, please, please…

Obviously God wasn't convinced, what with his track record. Mello let out a string of curses and slammed his fist into the wall. Ignoring the whispers and scared looks, he turned on his heel and walked out, not even having to shove his way past as the sea of students parted at his expression.

On his way out he passed Matt, who looked pretty glum. Obviously the boy had already seen the scoreboard then. Mello felt his face twist into an ugly smile; Matt wasn't the only one disappointed. Too bad for him. Mello wasn't in the mood to comfort, even if he had been the type of person to offer. Instead he ignored the red-haired boy and headed towards the front entrance. He needed to get out of here.

5th. Logically Matt knew he should be pleased. He'd gone from 11th to 5th over the course of a few weeks. Distantly he heard a few people congratulate him, but he couldn't bring himself to answer them. Why was he so bothered about this? He'd only been doing it for a bet, hadn't he? He didn't really mind smoking outside that much; it was a pain, but not as much as studying had proved to be. So why did he care he'd lost?

"Congratulations."

He looked up and wished he hadn't. It was Chance coming to gloat. She stood in front of him a condescending smirk on her thin lips.

"It was really good to get to fifth, I mean, you tried your best didn't you?"

Yes, he had. Matt pushed himself up from the wall he'd been leaning against, and walked past Chance, unable to force a retort through his angry mouth. He had tried, and as Chance had so gleefully pointed out, he had still failed. Mello had said something like that once; if you didn't win, then no matter how well you'd done it was irrelevant.

As he walked out into the dimly lit corridor he could feel his anger and disappointment crystallize sharply into something else: resolve. Not even knowing what he was doing really, he let his feet guide him through the corridors until he ended up stood in front of a door.

Unlike the other doors in the house this one was oak, and darkened with age. Hesitating briefly, not sure entirely what he expected to gain from this, Matt raised his hand and knocked.

A brief silence, then the door opened. Looking vaguely surprised, Roger stood in the doorway to his office. "Hello Matt, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Awkwardly Matt adjusted his goggles, "I'd like to speak with you. About the scorings."

Roger looked down at his young charge, still puzzled, then nodded, "You better come in then."

Matt followed Roger in, closing the door softly behind him, and then looked around Roger's office with interest. He had been in here before a few times; Roger made a point of speaking to every child under his care one-on-one now and again, but he was still impressed with the place. It was a medium sized room, with oak paneling and several bookcases tightly packed with books. Light streamed through the large bay window that looked out onto a flower garden, already beginning to bloom.

He sat himself down in front of the large oak desk, and looked across at Roger who steepled his fingers and waited for him to begin.

"Is it possible to change your ranking? I mean, before the next text." Matt blurted out.

Roger raised a bushy eyebrow looking startled. "You've only just taken a test, and you did very well if I remember." He shuffled through some paper on his desk, and then looked over a sheet. "5th, an impressive improvement from 11th. While I'm pleased to see your ambition I think you can wait until the next test in June."

"But that's ages away!" Matt exploded, half rising out of his chair. Catching himself, he sat back down. "Sorry, it's just… I feel like, if I have to wait that long I might stop caring or something." He sighed and looked down, sure that Roger would just say keep trying and then dismiss him.

Thoughtfully Roger looked at the lowered head, observing how the boy held himself rigid, as though he was really having trouble controlling himself over this. Matt wasn't the sort of boy he expected to hear this sort of thing from; the boy was generally relaxed towards his studies, many teachers complained too relaxed, wasting his potential. It was interesting to see Matt was finally beginning to show some competitive spirit. That was what made him say what he said next.

"It is highly irregular for someone not in the top three to take on a case, but if you really want -"

"Thank you!"

Roger smiled in pleasant surprise at the eager young face beaming at him, "Well then, I think I have a small case that's open at the moment, nothing too complicated at first, but…"

* * *

Back in his room Matt grabbed a backpack and started showing clothes into it. He glanced around the room for anything else he might need, added his laptop and some hacking gear, then sat down on his bed and looked over the brief.

He'd already read it and Roger had gone over it with him too, assuring him that he wouldn't be doing this alone, he was merely going to observe and help if possible with the team of police looking into this crime.

It was a simple enough matter of arson; someone had set fire to a church. No one was killed; an elderly lady had been rescued from the blaze but she suffered no worse injuries than smoke inhalation and shock. Police were treating the fire as suspicious because of how quickly the fire had grown before the fire department were called, but were also considering the possibility it had been started by accident by the elderly lady, who had lit a candle, then fallen asleep while praying.

Briskly Matt placed the small folder in a side pocket, then left his room, going down and out into the drive to get in the sleek black sedan waiting to drive him to the village.

Stepping out of the car an hour later, Matt took the opportunity to acclimatize himself to his surroundings. The village, from what he'd seen of it as they'd driven through had been a stereotypical sleepy English village, with cobbled pavements and funny lopsided houses with warm red tiled roofs or funny straw thatches that sat like wigs on top. The church was about five minutes drive from the village center, but that distance and the sprawling, overgrown graveyard was enough to ensure a fair amount of distance between the church and any other buildings. One of the reasons that the fire had had enough time to cause so much damage.

Matt was stood in front of the village's police station, an old fashioned looking building built from stone like everything else here. As he walked towards the doors one opened and a friendly looking man caught sight of him.

"You must be the kid, wow, you're younger than I expected. Come along in."

Matt held his tongue at being called the kid, and stepped in. There was a small reception area with a bored looking copper behind the desk, but Matt didn't have much time to look around before his new friend called to him halfway up a narrow, rickety looking staircase, "Come on, I'll go through the case with you in my office."

His 'office' turned out to be a small room made smaller by the sloping ceilings and number of filing cabinets the man had managed to squeeze in.

"Well, Wammy's sent you, so I guess you must be pretty smart. Do you have any previous experience?"

"No." Matt admitted, eyeing the man curiously. He'd mentioned Wammy's, but Matt wasn't sure why some country officer knew about that. Who exactly was this man?

As if he could read the question in Matt's face the man chuckled, "I haven't introduced myself have I?" He laughed apologetically then offered Matt his hand, "Call me Steve, I'm head honcho here, which isn't saying much I know, and to answer what you're wondering, the reason I know about Wammy's is that my father's an old friend of the founders."

Feeling better now that he'd had some of his doubts addressed Matt took the man's hand. He had a warm, strong handshake, and Matt found himself instinctively liking him.

" Now, Roger and I use this connection to our mutual benefit; they get to send some of you lot here for experience, we get help with any tricky crimes."

"And is the crime tricky?" Matt asked, leaning back in his chair.

Steve shrugged, that easy smile on his face still, "It should be reasonably straight-forward, we've got no shortage of suspects; the problem is motive and opportunity." Reaching behind him, he grabbed a slim manila folder and tossed it casually over to Matt, "Take a look for yourself."

Matt flipped it open and began reading at high-speed, processing and storing the information instantaneously. According to the files the fire had been reported at 7:02 pm, but forensics said judging from the smoke damage and extent it had spread, the fire had probably been going strong for some fifteen minutes before that. People with keys to the church were the vicar, the caretaker and the woman in charge of flowers and choir practice.

Statements had been taken from all of them, but the vicar had been in town at the time of the fire, and there were several people including the police officer on duty himself who'd seen him. The caretaker however, had no alibi. The woman was the one who'd fallen asleep and got caught inside the church when it was on fire; police had questioned her but she said she couldn't remember anything and police didn't want to push her too much when she was still shaken and upset. There was another possible suspect, a local youth who sung in the choir, Ricky Holness. Despite being only a few years older than Matt he already had a police record for ABH, petty theft and vandalism, notably targeting the church itself on several occasions. So far he seemed to be the lead suspect.

Matt closed the file; mind already whirring as he formed his initial conclusions, unaware of the impressed look Steve shot him after witnessing him read the file in just over a minute.

Any of these suspects could have done it based on the information he had here, he would have to wait until the follow up interviews before he could narrow it down, and there was always the option it was an entirely different person. Now he was determined to solve this case, not only to rise to the rank of third, but also to insure the criminal was caught before anyone was killed; arson was generally a serial crime perpetrated by exceptionally violent criminals, and there was a statistically high chance of arson leading to rape or murder. He was almost completely sure the arsonist hadn't been aware that there was someone inside the church, but that was of no importance. Ignorance was not an excuse, especially when someone's life was endangered as a result.

Matt clenched his fists in determination; the criminal would be caught!


	5. Exit And Emergency

A.N: Argh, I'm so nervous about this chapter! I really would appreciate feedback on this one, even if it's to say it sucked. I'm sorry if it does. Oh yeah, also I'm going to be updating less regularly because I have college again on monday, so I'll probably be updating once, maybe possibly twice a week.

* * *

"Y'think I might've done it! What d'yer take me for lad?"

Stifling a snicker, Matt watched in amusement from the other side of the interview room, where he was reclining against a wall as Steve became more and more frustrated with the old man.

"Nobody's saying that, we're just covering all possibilities." Steve said patiently, only the slight twitching of his left eye giving away his increasing annoyance.

"Yeah, well, we all know who done it, don't take a smart one to figure it was that Holness boy." grunted the old caretaker belligerently, crossing his feet, knocking mud off his boots in the process.

Deciding he might as well ask a few questions, Matt asked, "Is it true you're retiring next week?

Squinting at him nearsightedly, the caretaker grunted in affirmation. "Aye, that's right, what of it?"

Matt shrugged casually, "Was that your choice?"

Narrowing his eyes, the old man snorted, "Weren't too keen on the idea, I'll be honest, but I'm not as young as I was, and I can't keep up with it now."

Steve and Matt exchanged looks; it could be a motive of sorts, but it seemed pretty flimsy. It was true the church was sliding into disrepair though. Matt had gone to look around earlier, and had noticed the overgrown grass in the graveyard, the ivy gradually taking hold of the crumbling gravestones.

The inside of the church was worse. Although no real structural damage had been done, as the church was made of stone, all the ornate hangings, the hand made prayer cushions, even the wooden crucifix itself had been burnt too badly to salvage.

"How old are you anyhow? Look a bit young to be a copper to me." The sound of the caretaker's suspicious voice broke in on his thoughts.

Snapping to attention, Matt lied smoothly, "19, just finished police training and graduated top from the academy."

Steve shot him an exasperated look but kept quiet. The caretaker squinted again, but appeared satisfied. Smirking inwardly, Matt continued, "Unfortunately since you had access to the church, and a reason to set the fire, you're going to have to remain a suspect."

"Hang on, you're saying I might have burnt the church because they were retiring me? And access, you mean I had keys."

Matt nodded, bored. It seemed almost certain that the criminal was someone else, but so far he hadn't managed to cross anyone of the list, apart from the old lady. "There was no sign of a forced entry."

"I don't have the keys."

"Huh?" Both Matt and Steve stared at the caretaker, who crossed his arms stubbornly and glared back at them.

"You heard me. Had to hand them in didn't I, seeing as I was retiring. Vicar said he'd look after the inside of the church and I could just work on the graves."

A quick call to the vicar confirmed that the caretaker had handed his keys in earlier that day, and after that the old man was free to go, although he stayed long enough to lecture Steve and Matt about bothering their elders.

"Well, that's one to cross off the list." Steve sighed, sitting at his desk and sliding a cup of coffee across to Matt.

Matt nodded in thanks, taking a gulp of the hot drink, "Two." He corrected, examining the photos taken of the church.

"How'd you figure that?" Steve asked.

"Simple," Matt replied, "Look." He turned on of the photos round and tapped, drawing Steve's attention.

Taking the picture, the older man shrugged, "More scorch marks. Your point?"

Sighing Matt explained, missing Wammy's where anyone would instantly have understood. "The scorch marks start about two metres up the wall."

Steve's eyes lit up in understanding. Matt resisted the urge to roll his eyes; finally. "So the fire must have started halfway up the wall. This must have been where the fire was set."

Matt nodded, "Exactly. The fire had to have been started on purpose, because there's not way a knocked off candle could have started a fire two meters up a wall."

Steve grinned, "I forget how smart you Wammy kids are. But this only proves it wasn't an accident, the old dear still could have been the one to start it."

"No." Matt said decisively. "It's too high for her to have reached, and there was nothing for her to have stood on, even if I believed she was willing to have endangered her life."

Sighing, Steve shook his head, "Looks like it was Rick then."

Matt wished he could smoke right now. "We need evidence."

Nodding, Steve replied, "I know, but he had motive, and he's got in the church before somehow."

Draining his mug, Matt stood, "I want to speak with him first, before you take him in for questioning." Sensing Steve was about to argue, he added, "He'll take me less seriously, and might let something important slip."

Sighing, Steve scratched his head, "I guess that makes sense," the police officer admitted. "I'll drop you off at the chapel." Seeing Matt's confused face, he elaborated, "Choir practice."

The chapel it turned out was in the church grounds but not attached, and so hadn't been affected by the fire. Apparently it predated the church by at least a century, and had been the only place of worship until the church was built to cope with the growing numbers of people living in the village. Matt snorted, the idea of the tiny village being crowded was ridiculous.

Steve parked in the designated field around the back of the church, lifting his hand to a tall, thin man dressed all in black, heading towards a car. "It's nearly six so I'll come and pick you up in a couple of hours shall I?"

Matt nodded, fishing a thin silver object out of the pocket of his jeans; "I've got my mobile if you need me." He stepped out of the car, and watched as Steve pulled away.

"So, you must be from the orphanage."

Unnerved, Matt spun around. It was the man he'd spotted earlier, but closer he realised the stranger wasn't entirely clad in black, there was a flash of white at his throat: the vicar. "That's me."

"Nice to meet you. Having a look at the chapel are you?" the man extended his hand, leaving Matt no option but to take it.

"Yes, apparently choir practice is going though, so I'll wait."

"Oh no need to wait, it finishes in a few minutes." The vicar flashed his teeth, "Feel free to go in. In fact I'll walk you there."

Feeling uncomfortable still, Matt acquiesced, and they walked together down a worn footpath.

"Such a shame you came at this time, the church was very beautiful before."

Matt asked, more out of politeness than interest, "What will happen to it now?"

"It'll be refurbished. The Church of England will provide an amount, and some locals are making very generous donations."

Frowning, Matt glanced sideways, but the vicar's expression was impossible to make out in the twilight.

"How are you liking your work experience anyway, do you know if Detective Conway has any leads?"

Matt looked away and concentrated on not tripping on any loose stones before answering evasively, "From what I've seen Detective Conway is making good progress. Actually, today there was a number of interesting developments."

"Really?" The vicar stopped. They were outside the chapel now, patches of colored light falling in the shadow that enveloped them as light shone through the stained glass windows above. "Well, it must be fascinating. I'd better go."

"Goodbye." Matt watched as the vicar walked back up the path, then turned back to the chapel, suppressing a shiver that was not entirely due to the evening's chill. Pushing against the heavy door, he was relieved to find it was still unlocked, allowing him to slip inside.

A rich wall of sound greeted him. Unaccompanied, about twenty people of different ages and genders were facing a conductor and singing. Matt eyes widened behind his goggles, and he could feel his face flush, although no one so much as glanced in his direction. All these ordinary people, some plain, some pretty, some youthful and some old and wrinkled… Somehow they all looked sacred, as if lit from within by the music they were creating.

The sound swelled, gaining power and momentum before crashing over him in a wave, leaving him momentarily awestruck, another emotion he hadn't had cause to feel in a long time.

Apparently they were just finished, and all was left was for the conductor to give them notes and remind them that this weeks service would be held in here.

As the people broke into quiet chatter, gathering their stuff and walking past Matt to exit, shooting him a couple of strange looks as they did, Matt shifted into business mode, then spotted his target. Ricky Holness. He was definitely the odd one out in the choir; the teenager was dressed in ripped jeans and a leather jacket, a scornful sneer fixed on his face as the conductor, a middle-aged lady dressed in lavender, talked to him.

Matt debating waiting for them to finish, then decided not to. Instead he walked up to the two and interrupted, "Excuse me Ma'am, I was hoping to talk to Ricky."

The teen eyed the younger boy with distaste, "Do I know you kid?"

The older lady tutted at him, "Don't be so rude Ricky dear, I'm sure you can spare a minute to talk to this nice young man," she said smiling down at Matt, who quelled the urge to glare at her patronizing tone.

"Mum…" The loutish teen whined, before the lavender woman silenced him with a disapproving look, which thankfully meant no one saw Matt's jaw drop; they were mother and son? He was a young criminal, while she was a friendly choirmaster.

He was so busy gawping he almost missed what she said next.

"Don't be long dear, you've got to be home by seven don't forget." She reminded him affectionately.

"Seven?" Matt echoed.

"Yes, can't break curfew can we Ricky?"

"Shut up Mum." He grumbled, glaring at her from under his long fringe.

"Curfew?" Matt repeated a little desperately, beginning to sound like a parrot.

Ricky grinned unpleasantly at Matt, reminding him of Mello, then tugged his left jean leg up, revealing a gray plastic band. "Want to know how I got this shorty?"

Matt stared at him blankly, then at the police tag, mind working on overdrive as the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. It felt like he'd been working on one of Near's impossible blank jigsaws; he'd had all the pieces but no idea how they fit together. "No." He replied blankly, then went and sat at the foot of the altar. Vaguely he could hear the woman scolding her son for scaring him off. Soon they went, leaving Matt to examine his newfound knowledge.

It couldn't have been Ricky. The fire had been set at around quarter to seven, and according to police files Ricky lived a good half hours drive from the church. Until five minutes ago, that would have meant nothing, but knowing Ricky had to be home by seven, or he would trigger an alarm alerting the police proved that it wasn't him. There was only one other person who had keys and motive Matt believed. The vicar. He had to get out of here.

Quickly he pulled out his phone, then cursed: no signal. Swiftly he strode across to the main door, panicking when he realised it were locked. The choir lady must have forgotten and locked it behind her. "Crap," he swore, crouching down to look at the lock; it was an old fashioned one and looked fairly simple to pick. He was just weighing up the benefits of picking the lock compared to finding another way out when he realised he could smell burning.

He spun around, just in time to see a small door at the other end of the chapel swing shut and lock with a click. However the majority of his attention was diverted by large orange flames that were climbing up the elaborately embroidered wall-tapestry. "Shit!" he cursed again.

He dithered for a moment, looking around for a fire extinguisher. Strange, the chapel didn't seem to be equipped with one.

A hysterical laugh bubbled out of his mouth. He stopped abruptly as a segment of the flaming tapestry fell onto the carpet, setting that ablaze.

"Oh god, think Matt, think!" he babbled, looking around for something to pick the lock with. Seeing nothing, he glanced behind him to check on the progress of the fire. It had reached the old altar, and was licking along the ancient, varnished wood, releasing toxic smelling smoke.

Coughing, as the first of it reached him, Matt covered his mouth with his sleeve; thankfully his goggles protected his eyes so he could see clearly. He had to get out. The smoke was deadlier than the flames, and dark, billowing clouds of it were beginning to fill the church in earnest now.

Giving up on picking the lock, Matt stepped back, before running and launching a kick at the door.

"Ah!" Matt fell to the ground. Right, well, apparently that only worked in videogames. Cursing Tekken 3, he hurriedly picked himself off the floor. Sweat trickled down his face, and he grimaced as he put his weight on his left leg. How stupid could he be, injuring himself while trying to escape?

As if his body was agreeing, he started coughing and hacking again. Think, look around, what could he use in this situation? The windows were too high up, the other door would be locked and he had nothing to pick the locks with and no time to do it. His gaze fell on the altar, now burning brightly. He glanced at the floor. An idea started to form.

He hurried to the altar, limping heavily, and coughing constantly now. As he got closer he could feel the heat like a physical object pushing against him. His clothes clung to his skin as his body desperately tried to cool him to no avail. Despite the heat and his fear he edged closer to the crackling flames, squinting at the floor by the altar.

For a minute he was sure it wasn't there, and that he was trapped, then he saw it. The outline of a trapdoor, leading down to the crypts under the chapel. Matt groaned; the altar was covering it by an inch.

Flinching, Matt steeled himself and, before he could think about it, thrust his hands against the burning wood.

He screamed. The pain was unbearable, but somehow he bore it. His flesh sizzled and he could smell skin burning, hear it crackle through the sudden roaring in his ears. He pushed with all his strength against the altar, straining for what felt like hours while his flesh cooked and bubbled, until finally, finally it moved.

Matt fell to the floor with a whimper, pulling his hands against his chest, then forced himself to move. He grabbed the handle, gritting his teeth at the pain in his hands and pulled. He almost sobbed in relief when it opened, revealing stone stairs that lead into darkness.

Stumbling, he half fell down them, into blessedly cool air. He ran in the dark, bumping into unseen stone caskets, until he tripped up some stairs. He forced himself up, then grabbed another handle and pushed; stumbling into fresh, open air.

Darkness, dim starlight. He had forgotten it must be night by now. He looked around. He could see graves, so he was near the church still. A siren pierced the silence, and he turned towards the noise; there was the church, and further down the chapel surrounded by fire engines and police cars. Matt stumbled towards them, crying out hoarsely, "Help! Help!"

Losing his footing, he landed on his arse and slid halfway down the hill, which at least attracted peoples attention.

"Matt? Thank God, we were looking for you…" Steve and a couple of other police officers came running over. "Did you see anything?" Steve then noticed the state Matt was in; covered in soot and dirt, red hair plastered to his face with sweat, cradling his bloody hands, "Christ, what happened?" He turned to another police officer, ordering him to get a paramedic, then crouched down.

"It was the vicar, he had the keys, I think he must have had an accomplice but I know it was him, he locked me in there and started it, and he's going to take the money." Matt gabbled, determined to tell Steve before he passed out.

"Don't worry about that now. Just keep calm." Steve turned urgently to someone behind him. Matt couldn't see who through the haze that had fallen over his eyes.

"He must have had someone to help, his wife, does she have an alibi?" he murmured, wondering why his voice was so slurred, and his body felt so light. Even the pain in his hands had receded.

"Maybe," Steve sounded distant, "I'll look into it... Matt?"

"Good." Matt sighed, slipping into blackness.

* * *

A.N: Heh... confused? It'll will become clear in the next chapter (I hope... I'm not sure I really control what happens in this story.)


	6. Blood And Batteries

A.N: Thank you to all my lovely reviewers, and everyone who reads this. I'm guessing the last chapter was okay, thanks, everyone, for the feedback, I'll bear what you all said in mind when (if) I write another chapter like that. Woo, this chapter was fun to write, I hope you enjoy reading it and don't find my sense of humour too weird :P

* * *

It took several hours before Mello noticed Matt's absence, and even then it wasn't until dinner that he found out where he'd gone.

"What? How come that little nerd gets a case and I don't?" he yelled, outraged and jealous, flinging his fork onto his plate.

Neutrally, Chance brushed at a splattering of sauce on her top, caused by Mello's theatrics, and waited until he calmed down. No one in the canteen even paused to look round; Mello was prone to outbursts every so often, and unless they were exceptionally entertaining everyone just found it safest to ignore him.

"I think it was foolish to entrust an idiot like him with a case. He's not even in the top three. We should join to take him down..." The right side of Chance's body twitched in a sort of spasm.

Distracted, Mello watched in fascination, as Chance flushed and looked away, her right eye twitching nervously. For some reason it appeared GameBoy really got to her. A slow smirk formed on his lips, and he felt his anger at the absent gamer diminish. "Who cares."

"What?"

Mello almost laughed under his breath at the pure rage in that single word. "I said," he emphasized slowly and deliberately, "Who cares? Why not give him a chance." Eyes widening, he laughed delightedly at the unintentional pun.

Pushing away her chair away from the table with a shriek, Chance stormed off, slamming her empty tray on the collection pile with a bang.

This time several people jumped and looked round. It wasn't everyday the dour Chance caused a commotion. Mello grinned, then looked in distaste at his meal. It was, to all appearances, an unoffending roast dinner, complete with Yorkshire puddings. The way Mello eyed it seemed to claim it was, in fact, the one responsible for the death of his parents.

He picked it up, dumping the meal in the bin before tossing the plate onto the stack carelessly. "Oops." He said softly, hearing the crash of breaking china behind him, already unwrapping another bar of chocolate.

As he left he passed Near, who was using his potatoes to construct a sort of castle, surrounded by a moat of gravy. Casually he reached over and knocked it over. "Don't play with your food," he scolded mockingly, and then left, walking back to his room.

The second day of Matt's absence was fairly boring. Classes seemed duller than normal, and Mello took to bullying Near by constantly by flicking paper balls at him. However, there was only so much amusement that could be garnered from this activity, when the victim appeared not to notice the constant bombardment. Sighing, Mello pulled out a chocolate bar and tore a chunk off with his mouth, chewing brutally. The teacher paused, perhaps contemplating reprimanding him. He glared the man down. Too easy.

He found himself wondering how Matt was doing, and then enviously what case he was working on. Lucky twerp. Mello snapped another piece of chocolate off thoughtfully, letting this piece rest on his tongue until it melted. Overall, he decided, he was pleased GameBoy had gone this far to win the bet; he admired that level of obsessive dedication in others.

Finally class was over. With no one else to bother, and not feeling in the mood to study, Mello started to follow Near out of the classroom, pleasantly planning an afternoon of tormenting the introspective genius.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't bother me today." Nears voice was as toneless as normal.

Mello snorted, then fell in stride with the shorter boy, "You can't ask people not to persecute you because it's inconvenient, idiot."

"Never the less, if you do attempt to spoil things today, you will force me to take action." They stopped outside a small hall generally used for martial arts training.

"Sounds like a challenge." Near may be a genius, but he had no clue about people; there was nothing he could have said more guaranteed to insure Mello's attempts at sabotage. "What are you doing anyway? Having a tea-party with your dollies?"

"No," answered Near coolly, "I am attempting to build the worlds longest and most complex domino knock-down."

How, Mello pondered, was this child number one? "You are so retarded."

"I don't think so." Near slipped inside the hall, closing it and locking it before Mello got a chance to jam his boot in the way.

"I'm sorry Roger." Matt said meekly, head bowed demurely, although more to hide the wide grin he was bearing than from any sense of contrition at the hassle and worry he had caused.

He hadn't been able to stop smiling since Steve had phoned to say the vicar had been caught driving to the airport, with flight tickets for him and his wife booked under a false name, and a lot of money that didn't belong to him in a new bank account. Matt had smirked when Steve confirmed that the wife was indeed the accomplice, and had used the caretaker's keys to open the church and start the first fire when the vicar was in town.

"Quite right, you should be sorry," Roger rebuked, looking down at the young boy, lying propped up by pillows in the sick bay at Wammy's. "You could have died, and as it is you're going to have to miss class for a few days, and then have to use a laptop for work until your hands heal up."

"I know." Matt tried to sound properly regretful, while inwardly performing a victory dance at the prospect of using a laptop all the time. As for having time off, well, he wasn't complaining.

Roger sighed, "I hope this won't affect your academic performance. It'd be a shame if you moved down now you're in third place."

"Yes sir," yawned Matt, then his ears caught up with his mouth, "Wh-what?" He gawped, stunned, "Third place? B-but I messed up!"

Amused, Roger tried to hide a grin. "You did manage to capture the criminal and work it out fairly quickly. It's not entirely your fault he locked you in and tried to kill you." He added a little sarcastically.

The sarcasm seemed to fly over Matt's head, or at least bounce off. "Thank you." He whooped, punching the air.

"Young man! Lie down this instant!" Ms Lane, one of the few residential members of staff, who seemed to double as the in-house doctor, walked in. "We've only just managed to control your breathing. You must have inhaled a lot of smoke; it was nearly like treating a twenty-a-day smoker." She giggled.

"Haha…" Matt laughed weakly, trying to not look too guilty.

"Anyway, I want you to go to sleep now, it's 10 already, and you've had quite a day." The doctor smiled kindly, adjusting and straightening his covers as he lay down obediently; he was feeling exhausted now the adrenalin was wearing off, and he'd been given something for the pain.

"Well, congratulations Matt. We'll be posting the revised rankings on the scoreboard tomorrow morning." Roger said, walking to the door.

"Okay." Matt closed his eyes, not even bothering to remove his goggles.

Just then a loud crash came, followed by an inhuman screech from somewhere down the hall. Matt squeaked and flailed, saved from falling off the bed only by the tightly tucked blanket. "What the hell was that?" he half screamed, eyes wide beyond the orange lenses of his goggles.

An eerie look crossed Roger's lined face. He turned to the hallway and, Matt swore, sniffed the air. "Mello…" growled the orphanage director breaking into a run, demonstrating a surprising turn of speed for a man of his years.

Impatiently Matt craned his neck, trying to peer down the corridor, where a strange high wailing sounded. Unable to stand it, Matt was just slowly getting out of bed, yelping involuntarily when he placed weight on his swollen right ankle, when Roger returned, dragging a sullen and bleeding Mello behind him.

"- times have I told you not to antagonize him."

"He's the one who hit me, tell him off!" Mello yelled, seeming not to care or notice the blood streaming from his nostrils.

"I'm not surprised the way you've been picking on him recently, I thought that'd been solved when we moved you into Matt's room, but obviously not." Roger yelled back, pushing Mello exasperatedly until he was sitting on a bed. "Obviously I can't trust you to act maturely."

"He's the one going mental because I knocked over his dominoes!" Mello screamed, equally exasperatedly.

Matt couldn't help it. He started giggling. They looked so ridiculous; Roger with his face bright red with anger, and Mello pouting while fountains of blood poured out of his nose. That, and a mental image of Near throwing a tantrum and actually resorting to physical violence reduced him to tears.

"Roger!" Ms Lane rushed in again, glaring at the older man as she went to Matt's side, "You shouldn't get him excited when we had to put him on a ventilator earlier."

"Sorry, I had to bring you this brat. He and Near had an altercation." Roger gave Mello a very dirty look.

"Not another one!" Ms Lane moved to inspect Mello, "Fighting again Mello?" She straightened, "It's okay Roger, you go and see to Near." Roger nodded and left, seemingly with relief.

Matt managed to calm his hysterical laughter, because it was making him feel a little dizzy. "Good," muttered Ms Lane, "I'll trust you guys to stay quiet for five mintutes while I get some painkillers. Here's some tissue."

Mello snatched it and started to sop up the blood on his t-shirt.

"Pinch it round your nose you vain little boy." Ms Lane commanded, shaking her head disbelievingly, before hurrying out.

An awkward silence settled over the room, as Matt tried not to look at Mello; the urge to laugh was still too strong, and Mello sat sulking on the bed.

Obviously Mello noticed the way the other bed was shaking as Matt tried to laugh silently. "Shut up, it's not that funny!" Mello snapped, annoyed, and aware he looked ridiculous clutching half a toilet roll to his face.

Helplessly Matt snorted, the disgusted look on Mello's face just making him laugh all the harder, until he started wheezing at the same time.

Mello sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the redhead, until Matt broke into a full-scale coughing fit. The sight of Matt, eyes still streaming with tears of laughter behind his goggles, face bright red and laughing in between coughing was too comical for Mello to ignore, and reluctantly he smiled, snickering slightly, before breaking into peals of raucous laughter.

"What on Earth is going on in here?"

Mello and Matt took one look at Ms Lane, clutching another wad of tissue and wearing an expression of mixed weariness and wariness, then one look at each other before collapsing in hysterics again.

"So you're actually number three now?" Mello asked, lolling on his bed.

"Yes." Matt was lying on his bed under firm instructions from Ms Lane to not even sit up, or she'd kick Mello out of the room. After the 'toilet roll incident', as Matt dubbed it, Mello seemed to consider Matt's company not intolerable.

"So you're my competition now."

Frowning, Matt looked across at where the blond was lying, nonchalantly biting into another bar of chocolate. He didn't seem very fazed by the thought, maybe, Matt thought wryly, because Mello didn't see him as much of a threat. Well, he didn't need to worry. While his case had been wildly exciting, and it had been cool figuring out what had happened, Matt thought he preferred fighting evil from behind the shelter of a computer monitor. Trying to overtake Mello and Near would probably kill him, from the stress of studying, if nothing else. "Whatever," Matt muttered aloud, "I don't really care apart from being able to smoke in our room now."

Biting off another line of chocolate, Mello smirked, then chewed quickly and swallowed, "I don't think you're going to be smoking anytime soon, stuck in here."

"Only for a couple of days," Matt pointed out, then groaned.

"What's up?" Mello didn't sound particularly concerned.

Matt glared. Apparently it wasn't very effective because Mello just continued eating. "What am I meant to do when you've hidden my GameBoy somewhere?"

Mello smiled. "Study?" he offered.

"No chance."

Sighing Mello got up and walked out. Matt guessed he'd gotten bored and left, so he was surprised when the other boy came back five minutes later.

"Here." The blond tossed a small, heavy rectangle onto Matt's stomach.

"Ugh." Winded, Matt picked up his GameBoy, breaking into a grin. "Thanks Mello."

"Yeah yeah." Mello lifted a hand in farewell before exiting again.

Excitedly, Matt slid the power button, waiting in anticipation for the screen to light up. It didn't. Worriedly he flipped it over; maybe the batteries were just loose. He unclipped the battery cover, forehead wrinkling in confusion when he saw a note in place of his batteries. Unfolding it, he scowled as he read the untidy scrawl, _'Go to sleep GameBoy.'_


	7. Mail And Murder

A.N: Yay! Thank you for the reviews about the last chapter, I'm really pleased so many people had so many positive things to say, and I feel I learnt a lot about writing with that last chapter. This chapters quite short, but the next one, which I hope to finish by Thursday latest should make up for it in length. That's all I have to say really, apart from my friend pointed out to me to day that Yagami is an anagram of I am gay, or read backwards I'm a gay. I was very amused, and consider this important evidence in favour of LightxL :)

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Over the next few months Matt and Mello fell into a close friendship, something neither had expected to happen, but became unavoidable in the week Matt was stuck in the sick bay with only Mello for company. The blond came by after class everyday, and while his visits were not peaceful ones ideal for individuals in recuperation, they kept Matt entertained at least. As well as bringing batteries for his GameBoy, Mello also brought less welcome gifts, such as assignments and homework. Matt was always amused by how dutiful Mello was towards his studies, but had to admit it obviously paid off when Mello deigned to help him with his work.

Even after Matt was well enough to move back into their room, they didn't drift apart. They made a good team; both smart and mischievous enough to keep each other amused, but their differences helping them to balance their less favorable attributes, bringing out the best in each other. Mello, Matt soon discovered, was very protective of his 'possessions', of which he classed Matt as one.

This was discovered during Matt's first day back in class.

They were five minutes early due to Mello's distaste for breakfast meaning Matt had to rush his, while his friend waited impatiently for him to finish. The teacher hadn't arrived yet and Matt was playing his GameBoy as Mello was preoccupied talking to someone else. He was just facing the final boss on Super Mario Land when a sudden blow landed across his face. Shocked at the attack, Matt dropped his console, looking up to see Chance glowering at him.

The girl was breathing heavily, and her eyes looked suspiciously watery. Matt had a sinking feeling he knew what this was about.

"You stole my place!"

Gloomily Matt leaned down from his chair to pick up his GameBoy, noticing it had been turned off in the fall. His feeling had been right then.

"Don't ignore me!" Chance raised her hand to strike him again.

She never got that far.

"Hands off." Mello's voice was low, dangerous. Somehow he'd moved fast enough to grab Chance's wrist before she could hit Matt again. Chance said nothing, but tried to tug her hand away, lips tightening in pain as Mello strengthened his grip and continued, still in that scarily quiet voice, layered with menace. "The reason that Matt's third is simple; he's smarter, so back off."

Laughing harshly, Chance gestured with her free hand at Matt's bandaged ones. "Do you really think so? He can't even look after himself. Looks like he need's help with everything."

For a minute Matt thought Mello was actually going to snap her wrist, and it seemed Chance seemed to think so too. Her face, which had been red when she first marched over self-righteously, was now blanching blotchily.

With a self-control Matt hadn't known Mello to possess, the teen contented himself with twisting her arm into a painful-looking position before dropping it.

Although she didn't cry out, she was clearly in pain as she held her arm against herself, gritting her teeth and speaking coldly, eyes flat and mean. "You'll regret this."

Before Mello could sneer and start an actual fight, the teacher came in, and everyone who had turned round to watch hurriedly turned back. Chance moved to an empty desk at the back off the room, and Mello dropped into the now vacant one beside Matt.

"Thanks." Matt muttered, sliding his GameBoy into his jacket.

Shrugging arrogantly, Mello told him, "I don't like people messing with my stuff."

Sliding his laptop out of his bag and onto his desk, Matt sat in silence while he waited for it to power up, and then said what was on his mind. "Do you think she's right?"

Mello seemed to know instinctively what he was worried about, and he glared at Matt. "Idiot! I hate people who doubt themselves. Chance is just talking shit to get to you, and you're smart enough to know better."

Mello was right, Matt thought ruefully, and he was just about to tell him so, when the teacher crashed his ruler against the blackboard, "No talking!"

Probably just as well, Matt decided as he watched Mello yell back at the teacher, he'd never hear the end of it if he told him that.

Soon it was the final week of June. They'd finished the second batch of tests, and Matt was relieved to see he was still in third, proving he was smart enough to be there. Near still occupied the position of first though, leaving Mello dissatisfied enough that he wasn't even taking a break from studying.

Despite Matt's protests, Mello had towed him reluctantly outside, insisting Matt needed to get some fresh air before he became allergic to it. Unhappily, Matt had agreed but was now seeking refuge from the brightly shining sun by huddling under the shade of a broad oak tree. Several other people had taken advantage of the nice weather to study outside too, but the boys had found a fairly secluded spot. Having decided it was unlikely he'd be seen; Matt pulled his packet of cigarettes out and placed one between his lips while he fumbled for his lighter.

"Thought you were quitting." He sounded bored but Matt knew better.

"…" Matt peered up at his friend behind the safety of orange lenses. The blond was bent over a heavy book, his long ashy hair falling in his face. "I only said I'd think about it." He reminded Mello.

Sighing as though Matt was dragging him away from something really interesting, instead of the first principles of thermodynamics, Mello looked up in irritation, "What's to think about; it's a habit that involves inhaling vast quantities of toxic chemicals, which is causing your body lots of problems and will, probably, lead to your death."

There was no answer to that, so Matt shrugged and lit up instead. He heard Mello swear, but didn't really listen, sucking in his addiction instead.

"I don't know why I hang out with you, you're so -'

But Matt never found out what Mello was going to say next.

"Matt!" One of the teachers appeared, rushing around the tree.

"Shit!" Frantically, he stubbed his cigarette out while ignoring Mello's sniggering, hoping she somehow hadn't noticed.

Although she must have seen, for some reason she didn't say anything, instead she just looked at him sadly, and that clued him in that something was wrong. "What's happened?" he asked, mind racing as he tried to think of something she could have to tell him which would make her look this sad. All he could think was that they'd calculated the scores wrong and he'd actually come last.

"Roger will tell you, come along." She placed a hand on his shoulder as they started walking towards the buildings, Mello loping along beside them, keeping his mouth shut for once. Matt supposed they were trying to be comforting, but since he wasn't upset it just served to make him feel slightly sick with worry.

Mello settled against a wall to wait when they got to Roger's office. Matt was grateful he wasn't just leaving, but for some reason wished Mello would ask to come in with him. His feelings of dread only increased when he saw the heavy expression on Roger's face. It was a look of someone who was responsible for sharing bad news.

Gravely Roger cleared his throat, picking up a piece of paper from the fax machine. "Matt," he began gently, hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure how to say the rest.

Ducking his head, Matt scuffed his shoes on the carpet, wishing he'd get on with it.

"There's been some bad new. I'm truly sorry. Your mother has been killed."

Bad news. That made it sound like the weather report, not something that struck him like a physical blow, leaving him reeling, the pain punching a hole through his chest like a shot from a cannon. Matt gripped the sides of the chair tightly, knuckles whitening. Just breathe. Think calmly; logic dictates that this kind of pain cannot kill you. "How?" he asked, although what he really meant was who? Why? What was to gain from killing her?

"It was a man who'd been sectioned with schizophrenia. He broke out a few days ago and was off his medication." Roger handed over the piece of paper, "The details are here."

Numbly Matt took the paper and scanned it blankly. He had to read it twice, and even then the words made little sense for once, jumping around the page, one sentence burning indelibly into his memory. Cause of death: arterial haemorrhaging.

He swallowed down bile, the bitterness spreading through his body like a disease. A stupid error of judgment; she'd seen the escaped man, and noticing his distress tried to aid him. Agitated and distracted by the 'demon' he claimed followed him, he'd become confused and angry, stabbing her repeatedly in the chest and neck.

Angrily Matt put the sheet down on the desk. He didn't want to read any more. When he closed his eyes, he could see his mother lying on a grimy pavement, green eyes blank and staring, her auburn hair dyed redder by the pool of blood collecting under her dead body; he couldn't stop thinking how he hadn't seen or spoken to her in two years, cutting off all ties when he joined Wammy's. As though she was dead to him, they'd told him, that's how it had to be, for his safety as well as hers. It felt different now though, her death breaking his last link to his previous life. He wondered dimly if this is how she'd felt losing him, and that's what started his tears, thinking he might have caused her this kind of pain.

He didn't allow himself to grieve in front of Roger. Instead he thanked the man in a choked voice, ignoring the painful sympathy in Roger's voice as he told him not to worry about classes until he was ready, the heaviness as the man clasped Matt's hand briefly, the burden of death settling in Matt's chest, making every heartbeat hurt.

As soon as he could, he exited, walking past a waiting Mello without a word, ignoring as he called after him, voice tinted the unfamiliar shade of concern. He was too scared to open his mouth in case his jaw shattered like glass and he kept breaking, until he fell apart completely.

Back in his room Matt crawled under the duvet, ignoring the soft sigh of the door opening as Mello entered ten minutes later. Mello didn't ask, just waited silently for an explanation. Not having one, not knowing why people have to suffer, Matt turned on his GameBoy instead. Real life was too hard; when people died you couldn't just restart or use a potion, they were gone for good.


	8. Death And Destruction

A.N:It's snowing... Yay ¬¬. Urgh. Wet cold wet cold. I don't like it. The upside is that I have a snowday, hence why this chapter is finished. Well, I might go outside to shut my sisters up, hope I don't die... This chapter was quite hard to write, I hope it makes sense

* * *

When Matt had rushed out of Roger's office, utterly ignoring his queries, Mello had initially felt a little pissed off. Normally that would be enough to ensure that Mello would have thrown a tantrum, refusing to acknowledge the offending person's existence until they came crawling to him to apologize, but Matt was different from the Mello's average sycophant, and therefore impossible to dismiss.

So, instead Mello had stormed into Roger's office, demanding to know what had happened. "What'd you do to him?"

Roger looked up as Mello slammed his hands down on the desk, leaning forward threateningly over it. "I did nothing." The gentleman's voice was unusually sharp. "Matt has suffered an unfortunate loss, but I can assure you I had nothing to do with it."

"Huh?" Mello was forced to stop, uncomprehending for once.

Roger couldn't help taking a few seconds to enjoy this rare state of speechlessness in the normally annoyingly articulate boy, before continuing soberly. "Matt was an unusual case in that we took him in even though he had a mother still, but she agreed we would give a better life than she could hope to." Tiredly he closed his eyes before continuing, "Despite not having been in contact with her, he was still understandably upset to hear she was killed."

Frozen, Mello processed what he was hearing. Matt had had a mother. Why had he not known? He had just assumed that Matt was like everyone else here at Wammy's, but it seemed even in this respect he was different.

For a moment he felt envy wake in his heart, digging its claws into him as he tried to imagine having a mother. All that he could remember of his parents was the scent of rosewater and pale hair like English sunshine; the feel of leather-clad arms lifting him with ease; he was so small. Then he wondered if perhaps it was better that way. After all, hadn't he always thought so? That it was better not to know what you were missing, not to care, because life always found a way to cheat you, taking anything you held precious and crushing it to dust.

Matt. Poor Matt, who still took every cruel comment or act to heart. Matt, his one true friend, the only one out of all the people who gathered around him who did so for reasons purer than self-interest. What should he do? – he wasn't one for offering comforting words or gestures; there was too much vulnerability in that, but he couldn't leave him all alone.

Back in their room, Mello sat, an unread textbook lying open on the quilt, listening to the quiet breathing coming from the other bed. Matt hadn't spoken, although Mello had heard the other boy move, could hear him even now tapping away at the keys of that stupid game. All Mello wanted to do was tell Matt how sorry he was, not just that his mother was dead, but that he, Mello, hadn't even known he had a mother. Instead he just turned the light off, got changed and went to bed.

Mello woke before his alarm. In fact, he woke everyday five minutes before it was due to go off at seven. Not like Matt, that slob would sleep all day if he was allowed.

"Matt!" Mello sat suddenly, yesterday's events flooding his consciousness. The other bed was empty and unmade, the quilt tangled and half on the floor. Frowning a little, Mello dismissed it, getting dressed in the same shirt and jeans as yesterday before sauntering down to canteen.

Standing with his bowl of coco pops, he scanned the large room for any sign of Matt, but there was no sign of his distinctive rust-red hair. Disregarding the beckoning waves from his group of 'friends', he sat down at an empty table; unable to even enjoy the chocolaty milk his favourite cereal had created.

When he got to class and saw Matt's desk was empty, he could ignore his gut feeling something was wrong no more. Turning on his heel, he marched out of the classroom, ignoring the surprised exclamations from his classmates, and the angry yells from the teacher.

Back in his room he began searching through Matt's things, chucking stuff at random over his shoulder. Nothing. Where the hell was he? Surely he'd have told him, or at least taken some stuff if he was going to his mum's funeral or something? Maybe he'd had to go back into the sick room. Mello was just moving to the door, planning to go and check when a piece of white paper on the floor caught his eye.

Bending, he snatched it up, quickly reading the note.

_If you find this Mello, I couldn't take the chance you wouldn't't keep me here. I know that you'd want to come with me too, but don't try to save me, this is goodbye, Matt. _

_P.s. If it is possible then I will try to do this alone, but if what I try fails then I will be dead. I want you to stay safe._

Betrayal. Matt wasn't special, or different, he was just as selfish as everyone else. Did he think about how Mello would feel reading this, knowing Matt was going on some stupid revenge-driven mission that was so stupid and reckless he couldn't't even tell him, Mello? Or maybe it wasn't just simple betrayal clogging his throat, causing his fists to clench, that innocuous-looking note screwed into a ball inside one. Perhaps it was fear and concern – things he shouldn't have let himself feel for anyone. People always let you down.

Trying to distance himself, he forced himself to think about what he should do now. Roger needed to know. Unfolding the crumpled note, he left, walking through the long empty corridors, his boots echoing loudly on the wooden floors.

'_I want you to stay safe.' _Mello snarled angrily inside his head; Matt should know he wasn't just going to meekly accept this and stay behind like a good little dog, waiting for it's master's commands. _'Don't try to save me." _Who did GameBoy think he was, ordering Mello around like that? He should know better.

Cursing under his breath, fuming as he strode angrily along, Mello frowned. That last thought; Matt knew him better… Something about that seemed to ring true. Matt did know him better, understood his moods and need to win far better than anyone else Mello had meet.

Cursing Mello stopped. He should know Matt better; that note sounded wrong! He reread it, frowning. Something wasn't right but what? Absently he sat down on the floor, pulling out a pen. First he wrote out all the words on the floor, looking at the first word of every sentence. Nothing. Then sniffed it, checking if Matt had used lemon juice as invisible ink, which would need to be exposed to heat before the message could be seen. It smelt of paper. First letter of every word – no, there was no wax on the paper, no suspicious words. Apart from chance. Mello snorted, thinking in distaste of the lumpy bitch.

Eyes widening, he thought, then counted and wrote. Chance was the tenth word so he wrote out every tenth word in the note. No message, but he thought he was on to something. Every fifth word. He wrote it out carefully, double-checking, then read it.

Mello chance here want too help matt then do what I want. Or, he thought grimly: Mello, Chance here. Want to help Matt? Then do what I want.

"That bitch!" He was already running down the hall, down the stairs, back to the corridor where he'd been when he'd shared with Near. He knew her room was somewhere here, but he didn't know which room it was. Hating himself, and hating her even more, he hammered on the door of room 12 until Near opened up.

The boy was still in his pyjamas, the white starched material leaching even more colour from his albino-pale skin. "What do you want?" No curiosity, almost a statement.

"Which room is Chance's?" Mello was too agitated to say anything else. What had Chance done to Matt, and how and why had she even managed it?

"Room 3. Why?"

But Mello wasn't hanging around to answer questions. He raced down the corridor. Room 3. How ironic.

The door was unlocked and empty. Mello could easily guess which side of the room belonged to Chance. The impossibly neat and clean side; clothes folded and hung neatly over her chair, set under the desk, which was clear apart from her parallel pen and pencil. And a small, white note.

No cryptic message this time, just a location.

_The room under the cellar._

There was no time to wonder if he was in danger, no time to ask for help. Besides, Chance had meant for him to find her; the message was addressed to him, and he was the one she sworn a vendetta against. He liked working alone anyway.

Racing down the hallway, he headed towards the entrance to the cellar, booting the door open, sending the motion controlled lights flickering and buzzing on. Without caution or second thought, he swung himself over the banister of the stairs leading down and dropped to the floor, landing in a crouch.

***

The part of the cellar was just a concrete box, wooden crates stacked in one corner, but Mello knew as every Wammy's child knew, that underneath this room, deeper underground lay the emergency bunker; a huge series of rooms fully stocked and equipped to deal with a nuclear Armageddon. Striding over, he pushed the surprisingly light wooden crate over to reveal a metal trapdoor.

This one was a little more high-tech than the one Matt had escaped through a few months ago, but to Mello it was easier to get into. Sliding up a cover on the trapdoor, he lay his hand against the scanner. The machine hummed quietly for a second, then beeped, recognising him. The trapdoor opened downwards, more lights flickering on in the room beneath.

Mello jumped down the small drop, then straightened, settling into a defensive position, looking around for Chance.

It was the first time in nearly ten years he'd been down here, and he had forgotten how eerie it was, trapped in this concrete box with only harsh fluorescent lighting to illuminate the narrow thirty foot long room, lined on either side by metal bunk beds. Mello refused to let this room, with it's bleak vision of the future, distract him.

He ran through the room, confident no one was here. Reaching the other end, he opened the next door into a room cluttered with boxes and shelves filled with silver sachets of dried food.

"Matt!"

He dropped down on his knees beside his friend, who was lying unnaturally still in an avenue created by the rows of shelves. Frantically he leant over him, noticing even in his panic the shallow rise and fall of Matt's chest. He pulled back an eyelid, noting the dilated pupils, almost obscuring the dark blue of the iris.

"He won't be waking up for a while, 100ml of chloroform will do that to you." Mello spun around still on his knees.

Half-obscured in the shadows of the shelves, perched on top of a couple of crates, Chance was sitting, watching, a gun in her hands. She sounded tired. Obviously drugging and dragging around bodies took it out of you.

"What's going on Chance?" Mello snapped curtly, turning away from her to check Matt's pulse. Slow and shallow. Too much chloroform could kill a person, especially if the person was sensitive to the sweet-smelling chemical, or the concentration was too high.

The girl's laughter was weary and surprisingly human, which was all the more frightening. "That's what I want to know. Everything was fine until he came along. And you just had to defend him…"

Mello glared at her poisonously, then spat, disregarding the loaded .22 calibre handgun. "Pathetic. You're a loser, this wouldn't change the fact you've lost, you'll be kicked out, locked up."

Smiling, Chance cocked the gun, then dropped from the crates to the floor. Slowly, she walked over, pointing it at Mello. "You think I'm stupid?"

Mello said nothing, watching for a sign of hesitation or weakness that would allow him to strike. She continued, hands rock-steady as she aimed the gun from point-blank range at his head, "I know I can't win. But I can make sure you don't either."

Still defiant, goading, "Sounds stupid. You're a whiny little cry-baby aren't you?"

Thwack. White-hot light burst through his skull as the gun connected with his head.

"You're the one laughing at someone with a gun."

Grinning through the pain, Mello responded defiantly, "Shoot me then, if you've got the guts."

Shocked, Chance stumbled back a step, before regaining her composure, then grasped the gun firmly and aimed. At Matt.

"NO!"

She chuckled hysterically. "Not so smart now?" she sneered, closing her eyes, slowly squeezing the trigger.

Before she could Mello slammed into her, knocking her into the a shelf, sending little silver packets flying. Blackness crashed against Mello as his injured head protested violently, the room spinning and lurching nauseatingly as he staggered towards the fallen girl. He had to get the gun…

Too late. Chance grasped hold of the shelf and pulled herself up. Dimly, Mello registered she was crying.

"This is all going wrong!" she screamed, waving the gun wildly. Mello tried to position himself in front of Matt.

"Can't even pull the trigger? Weakling." Mello hissed, hating her. It was no use denying the situation was dire; Matt was unconscious, clinging tenuously to life, he was nearly blacking out, blood oozing from his head, and they were all at the mercy of a deranged girl with a gun.

Distantly he heard a door swing open, a soft intake of breath. "This is -"

"Shut up!" Chance shouted.

Near. Couldn't that brat ever leave him alone, not even to die in peace? He must have followed him here, Mello decided, gaining some satisfaction from the knowledge that Chance would surely kill Near too, as one of those who'd bested her.

"What am I going to do, what am I going to do?" Pacing, she muttered hysterically to herself.

Mello pushed away from the shelf he was leaning on, judging if he could reach her and attempt to get the gun before she shot him. Part of him didn't care, had resigned itself to dying. He would be happy so long as Matt lived, hell, Near too if it came to it, if only because he could count it as a victory, having Near living indebted to him, never able to repay him.

"I would suggest you handed yourself in." Near looked like a ghost, colourless and unreal, almost like a child in his pyjamas. Something that didn't belong in this grim horror scene.

"I expect you're right. As always." A harsh bark of laughter. "I don't care. For once I'm in control." She raised the gun, aimed and fired.

Mello watched in shock, as Chance fell to the floor, gun dropping limply out of her hand. A red stain started spreading rapidly underneath her. He heard Near gasping, in and out, the closest he could come to screaming.

Numbly, Mello wiped some splatter off his arm, wiping it on his soiled clothes. He didn't want to look too closely or he would vomit.

He stepped over the corpse, trying not to look at the shattered cranium filled with fleshy pulpy mess instead of brains. Shards of bone crunched under his boots, all the while Near was sobbing dry, tearless sobs. Fighting off his pain, he scooped Matt into his arms, staggering a little under the weight of the sagging body and carried him out of that wretched room, calling harshly at Near to come on.

He would never be able to forget that look of maniacal satisfaction on Chance's face as she turned the gun on herself. In a way, she had won; he and Near and Matt were going to be forever haunted by her choice. There was no chance for redemption when you killed yourself. Mello knew this, the cold metal of the crucifix against his skin told him that, but even so in a sick way he admired her for following through. Going out in one last blaze of glory, before it burnt you up with it; at least you'd light the world on fire.


	9. Water And Wanting

A.N: Dear me, poor boys (evil grin). Another snow day, which means another proactive day spent typing this. Hm, I don't want to give anything away, but remember the warning in the summary XD

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Darkness surrounded Matt, warm and comforting. He was under water, and the weight of it pressed down on his chest in a way that made it hard to breath, but was strangely pleasant. Perhaps it was because he didn't want to wake up; he couldn't remember what lay above the surface of the black water, but he knew it was terrifying, and hurt. It was better to be here.

"Matt."

Someone was calling him. Someone immediately familiar but whose name floated away on the current when Matt tried to grasp it, as insubstantial as liquid itself. He wanted to please this voice though, so he drifted a little closer to the surface of his mind, before stopping, afraid to face whatever drifted above.

"He's breathing is too shallow. I'm putting him on a ventilator and a ½ mg dose of adrenaline. We need to improve his heart rate, or he's in danger of…"

Boring. He tuned out for a while, drifting along. After a while – it could have been minutes or days – he became aware that he had been slowly rising towards the top of the opaque water. Panicking, because who knew what lay beyond, Matt flailed sluggishly. Then he thought of the first voice, and it seemed he was willing to suffer a little more. Relaxing, he felt himself break into the air.

Air. Matt gasped in a mouthful; it felt like he hadn't taken a proper breath in ages. He opened his eyes. Then he groaned and closed them again. Was light always so… bright? Cautiously he opened them a slit; this wasn't his room. Which begged the question, where was he exactly, and why was this room lurching and swaying? Was he on a boat? Maybe he was seasick, which would explain why his stomach felt like someone had tied a knot in it. But why would he be on a ship? Maybe he was hungover. Oh crap, maybe he had got drunk, and then passed out on a ship! That would explain why he couldn't remember anything anyway. He let out a heartfelt groan.

"Here." That familiar voice.

Blindly, he sat up slowly, and grasped as something was shoved in his hand. A glass. Gratefully he gulped half the contents down, before his stomach rebelled, making him urge.

"Jesus." The voice blasphemed. Matt opened his eyes, just in time to see Mello holding a basin in front of him, before he vomited; a thin, vile, watery fluid.

"Urgh." Matt moaned, wondering yet again what he'd done to be punished like this. It struck him he really ought to thank Mello, and perhaps find out what he'd done, and why his friend's head was bandaged. He remembered finding out his mum was -, well he remembered that, and then going to bed. He vaguely remembered waking up really hungry and thinking about getting food, then nothing. Well, he guessed it was an improvement over nothing, and less disorientated, the sick bay was instantly recognizable.

Anyway. He turned – slowly, his stomach still feeling a little delicate, to see Mello was watching him, those cutting blue eyes examining him with worry and other, less discernable emotions swimming underneath.

"Thank you." Matt said quietly, voice a little hoarse. Mello just shrugged, and went to empty the basin in a sink in the corner, giving Matt a little while longer to try and remember exactly what had lead to him being in this state.

Mind proving thoroughly useless, a source of great annoyance to the gifted boy, Matt quickly checked himself over under the blanket. He appeared to be largely uninjured on the outside, apart from a few small bruises, but he still felt like seven types of shit. Giving up, he looked to his left, then tensed, surprised. Near was laying on top of the covers of the hospital bed next to him, seemingly uninjured, face as smooth in sleep as it was when awake.

Sighing, Matt turned away again; this was all very intriguing but it didn't exactly tell him anything. He rinsed his mouth out with the small amount of water left that Mello had brought him, spitting it back in the same glass. Looking up, he jumped. Mello was stood at the foot of his bed, just watching him as if he was something fragile that could break.

Flushing at the unexpected scrutiny, Matt realised for the first time, as he reached instinctively for them, that his goggles were missing. "Where are they?" he groused, feeling uncomfortable and underdressed without them.

Mello actually cracked a smile. "Should have figured that would be the first thing you'd ask."

Matt flushed deeper. "What… happened?"

Mello seemed to notice his reluctance, seemed to share it too. Instead of answering straight away, he came and sat on Matt's bed. "You don't remember huh?"

Shaking his head, Matt waited impatiently for him to say; he may not want to hear it, but he couldn't deal with this suspense – it was hugely irritating not being able to access part of his mind, like when he was younger and trying to break into security systems.

Mello turned to face him, and Matt found himself catching his breath. The blond's gaze was intense, more so now that he had no way of shielding himself against it. His roommate leaned closer, and Matt felt his heart pound a little faster, for some reason he couldn't name.

"I didn't know your eyes were blue too." Mello murmured, half under his breath, before turning to face away, adding matter-of-factly, "Chance drugged you and took you down to the emergency bunker, using you as bait to lure me there."

"Huh?" Not the most verbose of responses, but Matt was still steadying himself from Mello's off-the-cuff comment, and startling revelation.

"She had a gun." Mello's normally harsh voice softened, as the boy stared ahead into the shadows. "I thought she was going to kill me… and you."

There seemed to be a strange intensity to the way Mello said 'you', almost as if he cared more for Matt's life than his own, but Matt shook that thought off as patently ridiculous. "Then what happened?"

Still looking away, face shadowed, it's expressions unreadable, not because Mello was unexpressive like Near, but because his emotions were so strange and alien, the blond continued, "Near had to show up of course, sticking his nose in where it wasn't wanted. She went mental. Waving the gun around…" Mello made to continue, then stopped.

Oh god, thought Matt the atheist, watching his friend struggle for words, please don't let him have killed her, he'd never forgive himself. "Mello…" The name was a question, an entreaty, and a prayer.

Mello looked up, meeting Matt's sad but sympathetic gaze, before laughing unevenly. "Don't look at me like that Matty," he crunched out the endearment like he was chewing rocks, "my soul is still as pure as ever."

Catching the sly grin, Matt laughed slightly, relieved. Until Mello continued, anyway.

"My soul's pure, but…"A dead silence, then he continued, "She shot herself."

"She's dead?" Matt asked dumbly. Mello nodded, eyes flickering to his with faint irritancy, before skittering away again. "Oh." It might be cruel, but Matt felt more relieved than anything, which made him wonder why the normally callous genius in front of him seemed troubled. "It's not your fault." He tried to reassure Mello.

Again those brilliant azure eyes sought his out again. "Thanks Matty." The boy didn't sound any less distant.

Matt looked down, fiddling with his duvet. He guessed the whole place was in uproar, something like this must have come as a horrific shock; he hoped Roger was dealing ok.

"You're eyes are a really funny color."

Looking up, Matt scowled, "Thanks for the confidence boost, now give me my goggles."

"No can do." Mello grinned lazily; at least this mood swing had left him in a more positive mood, Matt reflected. "I like you much better this way, when you're all shy and defensive."

"Get away!" On second thought, maybe he preferred Mello quiet and brooding.

Sighing mock-sadly, the blond got up, before plunking himself down again. Hard. On Matt's stomach.

"Ow…" Matt groaned softly, hugging himself round the middle. His stomach lurched worryingly, his whole body resonating with pain.

"Oh shit, I forgot…" Mello's voice sounded genuinely regretful.

Matt looked up, planning to glare and give him a piece of his mind, but froze instead. He hadn't realised how close they were, given that he had just sat fully up, and Mello was leaning forward, an expression of mixed remorse and humor on his face. Obviously the other boy hadn't noticed either, because he was just as still as Matt, wide, sky-blue eyes fixed on his own funny-colored ones.

Then Mello's eyes darkened, and Matt involuntarily tensed, preparing for a blow and cries of faggot. Instead the other genius leaned forward, pressing his lips against Matt's softly, before pulling back, leaving Matt breathing in Mello's chocolate-scented breath.

He was gone, before Matt could react, back on his own bed, to his right. Matt stayed sitting upright. How would he have reacted? Would he have pushed the other boy away… or pulled him closer?

***

It was too bright and sunny to be Chance's funeral; that was Matt's thought, as he stood besides Mello in awkward silence, the next afternoon. He hadn't been able to talk to Mello yet, in between Ms Lane scolding him furiously for nearly stopping breathing again, and Roger coming in for a quick word.

Matt winced, remembering how hollow Roger's eyes had seemed; newly carved lines etching his face, writing his despair. The man truly cared about them; every one of Wammy's kids were his children, and losing one, in such a violent, bitter end, had ripped away a part of his heart. He had spoken quietly, grief evident. He didn't blame anyone, except perhaps himself. Some children could not cope with such pressure; he mentioned someone called A, one of his and Whammy's first orphans, who had killed himself, succumbing to the pressure of trying to become the next L.

So here they were. Classes were cancelled for the day, and most of the children were gathered here on the playing field, listening to Roger speak empty words, for what could you say to convey the brutality of Chance's death on a sunny summer day like this? The words sounded unreal, like a story. Matt watched as Roger concluded, and opened the black marble urn, tossing the ashes into a breeze. He saw them swirl away, quickly disappearing in the surreally bright colors of the grass and sky.

That was it. Everyone went back in, after a few quiet moments of reflection, a few brushed away tears, but apart from that she seemed quickly forgotten.

Except by Mello. The next week passed with him acting unnaturally subdued; he seemed to go out of his way to avoid Matt, throwing himself into his studies with more fervor than ever, although Matt would catch him looking at his textbooks sometimes with a scarily blank expression, as though those printed black words were not what he was seeing. Matt tried to be patient, tried not to think of that one brief kiss, but eventually he snapped.

"That's it."

Dully, Mello looked up, seeming only now to register how Matt was standing in his side of the room, blocking his light. "I'm trying to study."

Matt snorted sarcastically. "No, you've been staring at that page for five minutes. You're brooding again."

"Whatever." Mello looked back down disinterestedly.

Matt stared, stunned. He had expected Mello to snap, tell him it was none of his damn business, maybe even punch him. Not this. Matt couldn't stand it. He slapped Mello across the face.

"What the hell?!"

"At least that got a reaction." Matt smirked, as Mello leaped off the bed in rage.

"You little creep!" Mello screamed in his face, using his extra inch and a half height to try to menace Matt. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Because I care about you, damn it!" Matt yelled back exasperatedly, "And I'm sick of watching my best friend mope around, because of something that wasn't his fault!"

The volatile blond looked dangerously like he was going to hit Matt, so he hurriedly continued, a little more softly, "Look, I know you feel bad about Chance, but there was nothing you could have done."

For a moment Matt thought the boy was going to punch him anyway, but then Mello exhaled, a long drawn out sigh that seemed to release some of his anger, "That's it though."

"What?" Matt questioned tentatively.

The blond began pacing, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. "Control." He snapped tersely. Matt said nothing. Mello spun round; angry again, "I like to be in control, OK?" Again, Matt stayed quiet. Mello continued ranting, "She could have killed you, she nearly did, and there was nothing I could do."

Carefully Matt stepped closer to Mello, placing a hand on his friends shoulder. He felt those muscles tense warningly, but refused to be deterred. "Mello."

"What?"

"Thank you." Matt smiled.

Those familiar blue eyes caught his, widened, and then looked away. "What for?" the blond asked gruffly, "It's not like I did anything."

"You're always trying to protect me."

Mello half-smiled, a familiar evil gleam returning to his eyes, "Well you do need looking after; being too weak and puny to protect yourself and all that."

Cursing, Matt turned away, meaning to storm back to his side of the room, "Why do I bother?"

"Because you love me." The blond teased, in a good mood again, grabbing Matt's arm to prevent the shorter boy from escaping.

"Get off, freak! At least I don't look like a girl!"

"Say that to my face!" Mello pulled Matt against him, laughing harshly as he squirmed in discomfort. "Aw, Matty's blushing, got a little crush have we?" he sneered breathlessly.

"Shut up." Matt tried to pull away again; Mello always went too far in trying to humiliate him. Well, this time he'd succeeded.

"You know I'm only joking, dork." Mello refused to release him, wrapping his arms around the boy to keep him there. Petulant silence. "Don't sulk, baby." Mello realised what he'd said, "I meant you are a baby, I wasn't calling you -"He tried to explain, but Matt cut him off maliciously.

"Aw, that's so cute. Shame you're not a very pretty girl." .

"Shut up." Mello's voice was dangerously low, and Matt wondered if he was going to actually hit him now. Instead he did that thing again. He kissed him.

It was a longer kiss than their first, rougher, and more demanding. Mello crushed their lips together, stealing Matt's breath and sliding a tongue into his mouth; he tasted like dark chocolate, sweet, with a little bitterness underneath. Too soon, Mello made to pull away, but this time Matt was prepared, and jerked the blond boy back, enjoying the surprised cry, before his own mouth silenced it.

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A.N: Dun dun DUN! Will the surprises never end?! Another update! A kiss!! Two kisses!!! And notes at the end of a chapter!!!!


	10. Innuendo and Indigo

A.N: For such a short chapter it took ages to write! Eh... I hope you like it. I have to say, this story is only going to last about two more chapters, but I want to write a sequel. I really do. I just need to make sure I don't lose motivation X3, so... Review :)? Thank you to everyone, I love seeing that people are reading this, and it's so lovely to talk to some of you and hear your thoughts.

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One year later. June 23rd 1994

"Stop putting so much in your mouth, you're going to choke!" Matt glared exasperatedly at Mello across the table, watching in disbelief as the blond shoved another spoonful of chocolate pudding into his mouth. He knew the guy had a big mouth, but seriously…

"That's what I said last night." Grinning lewdly, Mello licked the bowl; enjoying the disgusted (and slightly envious, in Mello's opinion) look Matt gave the bowl, before standing. "Come on."

They walked together out of the canteen, Mello looping an arm casually around Matt's neck as they walked. Marking his territory, the redhead thought sarcastically to himself, although everyone was so used to seeing them acting as if they were inseparable, they didn't even get any odd looks anymore. Not that people were aware they were actually together; if Roger only knew what they got up to, they most certainly wouldn't be able to share a room anymore, something that had become very convenient. Matt starting laughing, imagining Roger, face red with embarrassment, trying to deal with that little bombshell.

"What are you laughing at?" Mello sounded suspicious, obviously expecting a joke at his expense.

"Nothing." Matt chuckled, then sighed as he realised they were about to enter the living room. "Oh great." He reached automatically for his Gameboy, resigning himself to Mello being completely and utterly distracted for the next hour or so.

Entering the room, he headed for the biggest, plumpest armchair, and hauled it to the back of the room, furthest from the wide-screen TV, observing with disgust how Mello plunked himself directly in front of it. No one complained, used to this little routine now; someone just went and drew the curtains, as more people filed in and began to sit around, waiting for the program to start.

A few seconds of dramatic opening music, then the serious voice of the newsreader for the 'Special Kira Update News'.

"Yesterday, the detective known as L -"

A few people started cheering, until Mello yelled at them to shut up, they were making him miss bits.

"… the possibility of a second Kira, due to irregularities, such as the video messages sent." The video clips rolled, as if there was anyone who had not seen them by now. "Obviously this is a very worrying turn of events, but experts are urging us…."

Matt fished his headphones out and plugged himself in, preferring to listen to the cheery electronic bleeping of Mario.

It wasn't that he wasn't interested in the Kira case; ever since the mysterious killings had started last year he'd followed it avidly, especially since L had openly challenged Kira, but as time drew on, and L was forced to show more and more of his hand, Matt began to feel distinctly uneasy. This wasn't how it was meant to go; L was meant to go in, kick butt, and solve the case before dinner. The way this case was going, it seemed less and less certain L was going to capture this criminal. Some people believed Kira was a God, dealing out divine judgment. Matt thought if Kira were a God, he would have no need to kill innocent people.

Mello's interest in the case was different… His obsession was a little too intense; he spent hours watching all the 'special' reports, reading online rumors, and often vanished to the Newsroom, to browse through L's own reports.

Matt knew that Mello hoped L would send for him, that they could work together and bring this killer to justice. Matt wasn't jealous of L, although he knew that Mello near-idolized the mysterious detective, but he did resent the possibility of Mello being taken from him, despite the fact there was no way L would involve Mello or Near. The detective's methods might be unorthodox, but he wouldn't involve a 15 year old and a 13-year-old boy in such a risky case. Matt tried not to think about how he was one of L's heirs too.

Still, Matt just didn't like the hungry look on Mello's face when he listened to L's electronic messages, or discussed some theory of L's to Matt, never noticing how Matt's involvement in those conversations were minimal, Mello talking enough for both of them.

All he wanted was for things to stay like this forever, the two of them, together safe and happy, but he knew Mello wasn't the sort of person who could live a quiet life; already he was becoming restless and dissatisfied with life at Wammy's, snapping at everyone more readily than ever, and flitting from fits of brooding, where he'd just sit sullenly, not even talking to him, Matt, to episodes of almost manic excitement, chattering away at high speed, forming improbable, wild theories about Kira, and how he was killing off criminals.

Finally the program came to an end, and everyone got to their feet, turning the main light on, stretching, and talking over what had been said. Matt snapped his Gameboy off, watching as Mello talked animatedly with Shem, an Indian boy who'd replaced Chance in fourth position. Even without hearing the conversation, he could tell from Mello's expression that he was pouring scorn on whatever the other boy was saying.

His lips curved upwards slightly at the disgruntled look on Shem's face; the dark-skinned boy was notoriously short-tempered, but was obviously trying to control his tongue; no one wanted to antagonize Mello.

Getting bored quickly with watching from a distance, Matt went over to wait, knowing it was a useless endeavor to try and hurry Mello, as it would only have the opposite effect.

"-if L was capable of catching Kira, he would have by now. That's all I'm saying."

"No way." Mello had his arms crossed, and that mulish look on his face, which Matt knew only too well, meaning nothing the other boy said was going to make him change his mind. "Kira's gonna slip up at some point; there's too many variables to control, and then L will have him."

"Not if Kira kills him first." Shem replied, and then held his hands up hastily as Mello snarled and clenched his fists, "That's just my opinion dude."

All the way back to their room Mello was silent. Matt knew better than to say anything, Mello would talk soon enough, and then Matt would be there to placate him.

Matt was changing out of his clothes, still patiently waiting, when he felt familiar lightly muscled arms close around his waist, dragging him off-balance, until he stumbled backwards against Mello.

"I'm trying to change." he protested, his body belying his words however, treacherously leaning into the unexpected embrace.

"Tough." A soft mutter in his ear, then he was falling backwards, landing on top of the bed, Mello underneath him.

That position that was quickly reversed; Mello somehow losing his jeans as he shifted to straddle Matt, the two of them now clad in only their boxers.

"How'd you do that?" Matt wondered, staring upward in bemusement.

"What?" Mello began to do something very distracting with his hands.

"Uh!" Matt bucked upwards, "Shit Mel, your hands are cold!"

Mello paused mischievously in his ministrations, "Shall I stop." He asked, eyes innocently widening. His only answer was a small whimper. Slowly, lazily he began moving his hands again. "How do I do what?"

"Uh…uh… I don't remember." Matt's speech was almost incoherent, and his thoughts were little better. Moaning, he arched up, tying his hands in Mello's hair, begging him silently; stay with me, you're everything I need.

"Tell me." Mello began kissing the redhead's neck, pausing now and then to bite, before gently kissing better the small red marks he had created on Matt's pale skin.

"Wanted to know…" Matt managed to gasp out, "…How you got your jeans off so fast."

Grinning at the question, Mello pulled away to examine the boy beneath him, taking in the tousled, rusty hair; goggles pulled down to hang around his neck, because Mello loved seeing Matt's eyes, a sight reserved solely for him. No one else knew the color of these eyes, blue – but so dark they were almost indigo; no one knew how expressive they could be when the pupils were dilated with lust

"Simple. I'm the best." And as he leaned down to kiss Matt again, for once he honestly believed he was.

It was only later, when Mello had fallen asleep, and Matt was lying next to him, that his sense of foreboding returned. He tried to shake off the bad feeling that everything was about to change, conjuring up images of the past hour to fight it off.

Mello loved him. Not in a sappy, flowers and chocolate way - there was only one person in their relationship who expected to receive chocolate, and it sure wasn't Matt – but in a way that didn't need words or titles or labels. He was Matt, and Mello was Mello, and it was enough that they had each other. Matt couldn't imagine ever wanting anyone else; he panicked at the thought, rolling over so he was pressed against Mello's side, feeling the other's warmth spread through him, Mello a solid, comforting presence by his side.


	11. Alice And Atlas

A.N: This is it. The penultimate chapter. I feel really sad; this has been such a great experience and it's drawing to a close:'(. Do you want a sequel? I also have an idea for a oneshot based off this fic which I really want to write, but I don't want to give away what it's about. The reason I'm still typing is I'm stalling. This chapter isn't very long. I don't think the next one will be very long either... Thanks as always to everyone who reads or reviews, :') you guys rock.

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Those last few months seemed to blend together into a ball of unbearable sweetness whenever Matt looked back on them afterwards. A few short weeks of innocence and joy; such a short time he and Mello had been allocated to share. He was lucky compared to others, he tried to console himself with this; at least he had been given someone to love, unlike Near, whose whole life was as blank and meaningless before the news of L's death as it was after.

L was murdered on the 5th of November 2004. It took until the 5th of December, a month later, before Roger could even confirm the death of the world's greatest detective, and that of Wammy, aka Watari.

Matt remembered the sense of reality being disconnected, as he sat once more behind that oak desk, Mello and Near beside him. He was Alice, falling down a rabbit hole, leaving behind everything that made sense. This morning everything had been normal; his biggest concern was what to get Mello for his birthday next week. Now everything was turned on its head, overturning his plans and hopes. L could not be dead, he was the axis of their world, as vital as gravity; without him they would spin out of control, nothing to anchor them down anymore.

Mello was spinning away; already Matt could see it, even though the blond was sat right next to him, he had begun to slip away from Matt. Even now, when he was yelling at Roger that he was wrong; this was just another of L's tricks, he was wrong, L couldn't die. For then he'd be just another mortal. Another fragile being of flesh and blood that Mello had lost. For all that he was turning 16 in little over a week, Mello looked as young as he had been when Wammy's had first taken him in nearly eleven years ago.

Even Near was affected, flung out of orbit along with them, into an empty, starless void, his toy soldiers dropping through his suddenly stilled fingers to fall against the ground. The time for games was at an end.

Distantly Matt registered that Roger was still speaking, but he couldn't hear him. All he could focus on were those faceless soldiers, lying fallen and forgotten on the carpet. There had been too many deaths. Too much sacrifice, and for what? L couldn't even protect himself in the end, let alone all the others whose fate depended on him. Such a heavy weight it must have been to carry.

Whose burden would it become now? Whose young shoulders would be forced to bear it, even though the weight might bow and bend them, eventually leaving them broken, another person to discard and replace as if life was expendable? Anger rose up as he pictured Mello among this pile of human trash, and then subsided as quickly as it had come, leaving bone-tired weariness in place. It was no use railing at fate, crying that life was unfair. Life always took too much, greedily stealing anything of value; that was the price of living.

Mello. Mello was his precious thing, the one container for all his love. There was danger in loving a single person that much; it was perhaps better to share love out, spreading it thinner, saving some in case something happened, so you had a little leftover to start again with. But it was too late for that now, Matt reflected, taking in Mello, his Mello, beautiful to him even now, when his face was distorted with loss and anger. He had given him everything, for good or for bad.

Make Near be the one; Matt tried to pray, clenching his hands together and closing his eyes. Maybe it was wrong to ask God to take one person's life in place of another, but he was desperate, and he didn't know how to talk to God like Mello did, but if Kira was a God, like so many said He was, then Matt knew He would take a victim, another sacrifice. Selfish now that it might affect him, Matt didn't care how many others Kira's bloodlust required, as long as He left Matt his one precious thing. The rest of the world could burn and crumble into ashes for all he cared.

The thoughts running through Mello's head would have broken Matt entirely if he had known them. Reckless scheme after reckless scheme tumbled through Mello's mind, as he was forced to admit L was dead. The knowledge was like a knife; slicing him apart from his present life, cutting him as well as liberating him. There was to be no more hiding; the last obstacle between Kira and them had fallen. When he found out about Wammy's, which Mello knew he would eventually, he would come, and bring death in his wake.

There was no way Mello was going to be beaten this time; he glanced at Matt, heart aching in sympathy at the shock and horror on his friends face, before he steeled himself. There was no time to mourn. In war, when your comrades fell in front of you, there was nothing to do but step over them and continue, or join them in the mud. Now he had to finally prove he was number one, or lose everything.

He looked Roger squarely in the eyes. The older man was a shell. None of his preparations, his flawed imitations, were ready for this. The old man had said as much. Neither him nor Near had reached L's level, let alone surpassed him. The odds were against Mello, but he was used to life dealing him an unfair hand by now. "I guess I'd better get ready to leave."

"No!" Raggedly, Matt choked out this one word, his one protest; don't leave me.

Coldly, Mello silenced Matt with a look, turning back to face Roger. He missed seeing Matt slump, didn't notice as Matt began to shake, falling apart. Instead he spoke rapidly, intently, focusing only on forcing Roger into acknowledging him as L's rightful replacement. "You have to send me, I'm the only one it makes sense to; Near is just a kid, and Matt," he hesitated, "he wouldn't be able to cope." Apologetically, he rested his hand on Matt's shoulder. I'm sorry, he thought, hoping Matt would understand, but I can't let you get involved. I can't lose you Matty, even if you hate me for leaving.

"What makes you think you could cope?" Roger lifted his head, shadows running and scattering across it, finding no place to hide. His voice was flat. All his kindness, his understanding and patience gone. Worn away. "If even L was defeated, why would you succeed?"

"Don't underestimate me." Always the same shit. Always compared and found wanting. "Let me try! Or go down fighting!" Under his hand, he felt Matt's shoulders begin shaking violently again, his friend muttering that one-worded protest hysterically.

"There will be no more deaths!" Roger looked old, every year of his life showing in his haunted eyes. He continued, quietly, lost in the past. "There have been too many people sacrificed. Forced to fight, to do the impossible. I will not send any more children to their death."

"Fool. Then you will kill us all." Mello spat harshly, "Kira has no qualms over killing the innocent; anyone smart enough to pose a threat is a target. We can't sit here and pray he'll let us live." His cruel words seemed to have some affect on Roger, forcing him to meet Mello's icy gaze.

"Then go. But Near goes too."

"What?" Mello snarled, losing his temper. Near looked up dully; the most he had moved since they were told. "Don't be ridiculous, he's fourteen. I thought you didn't want children to die!"

Roger nodded, recognizing his words as Mello flung them back in his face. "I don't." Every word seemed to weigh him down. "But his age won't stop Kira from killing him, if we don't stop him first."

"Let me go." Mello half-pleaded, half-threatened, ignoring scrabbling fingers as Matt tried to clutch onto him. The redheads face was white; Mello doubted if he was aware of what was going on, besides the fact that Mello was willfully endangering himself.

"You won't win." Near's voice was bleak. "We might defeat Kira together, but neither of us can do it alone. Even working as a team, it seems unlikely."

"Don't say that!" I hate to lose. "You don't know what I'm capable of!" He paused, seeing no sign of relent in Roger's face, "Well watch."

Shrugging off Matt, Mello turned, and left the office without a backward glance.


	12. Names And Numbers

A.N: This is it, the final chapter. I will write a sequel, but I'm going to take a break for a couple of weeks before uploading anything. Anyway I hope you like this chapter... It's hopefully not as depressing as the last one. Thank you to everyone who has read or reviewed this story, I know I wouldn't have finished this without all your encouragement. Wow, my first fanfiction has been completed... A proud moment :3

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Cigarette butts lay scattered on the floor. Ash and circular burns marked every surface, dirt and clutter everywhere. Ever since Mello had gone he'd been smoking, non-stop, unable to take a breath unless it was laced with nicotine. It hurt too much to think, so he drank, even though he'd never been able to handle alcohol, never enjoying the way it clouded his mind. Suddenly, not being able to remember anything seemed very attractive.

Matt was lost. Class was just a blur, the people in it irrelevant. Nothing mattered.

It took a week before he pulled himself together. The breaking point was when Near approached him, asking him whether he would be working under him now.

The albino had stood, head cocked slightly to one side, waiting motionlessly for an answer. Matt had stared. It had taken his groggy brain a while to even understand what the younger boy had said, and it took even longer to formulate a reply. How could he work with Near, the rival who had driven Mello away? "No." The word tasted like ash on his lips.

Predictably enough, Near gave no sign of surprise or annoyance. He simply lifted one shoulder, then dropped it in a mechanical shrug. "I understand." A swift, cool appraisal. "That is unfortunate, I could have used your expertise."

You could have used me full stop, Matt thought cynically, a relatively new emotion that was quickly becoming commonplace, even if all his other emotions seemed to be muffled by layers of protective cotton wool. He said nothing, waiting until Near shuffled away.

It was mid-morning break, but he was still quite drunk, having stayed up all night smoking and drinking; never mind where he got it from, he had his ways. Now he had reached the stage where he was no longer pleasantly removed from the world, but still so out of it everything was spinning and it was hard to think. All he knew was his throat felt raw, his head was pounding, and he felt physically sick from missing Mello. Why was he here, going to classes like nothing was wrong? What was the point in studying advanced calculus, when Kira could kill them off any minute? With Mello gone, so had any attachment Matt had to Wammy's. All it held now for him were painful memories.

It was decided then. Matt nodded decisively, then regretted it, as his head felt as though it was at risk of dropping off. He made his way to the door, holding his complaining cranium, shuffling slowly.

"Matt? Is something wrong?" His teacher looked at him in alarm.

Matt almost smiled, but he was doing too well to ruin his 'plan' now. "I don't feel good." No acting was required; he was pale, sweaty and more than a little green around the gills from his on-coming hangover.

Nervously the teacher moved back, as though he feared his pupil was contagious, or about to chuck up on his expensive Italian leather shoes. "Well, go to the sick bay then."

"Yes sir." Matt pretended to look grateful, dropping the act as soon as he'd left the classroom, a calculating expression sliding easily over his features in place. Mello had another thing coming if he thought he could get rid of Matt that easily. It may take weeks, months, maybe longer, but Matt was determined to find him. This had all the hallmarks of a true 'Matt and Mello mission' - he didn't have a clue how he was going to do this, but he was determined to succeed. He would leave now, there was no time to waste! Well, maybe he could pick a few things up en-route.

Fuelled by a drunken sense of purpose, Matt headed towards their - no, his bedroom, staggering a little, disconcerted to find it was quite possible to be drunk and hungover at the same time; a horrific state he had never known existed.

Never again, he promised himself queasily, packing a few belongings into a rucksack. All he was going to take were the bare essentials; some spare underwear, two packs of fags, a torch, his Gameboy with games and spare batteries, and all his hacking equipment.

Next stop, Roger's office. While packing he had thought of something. Matt paused two corridors away, got out his mobile phone, which he'd customized to insure was untraceable, then typed in the extension number for Roger's personal line. A dialing tone, then the call was connected.

"Hello?" Roger sounded suspicious; as well he should when an unknown number phoned his supposedly very private number. Matt pressed the green call button twice, activating the voice distortion software he'd downloaded when he was bored one day. "Hello Roger, just thought I'd warn you I'm popping by for a little visit."

"Who is this? How did you -"

Matt cut off the call. He felt bad about causing Roger concern, but he really needed to get into his office, and this was the only method he could think of right now that would work. He wished he'd put on a watch, but instead he counted two minutes in his head, before continuing on to the office. Roger should have gone to check the orphanage's security right now, giving Matt approximately 15 minutes before Roger discovered the call had come from inside the building. It should be plenty of time for him to get what he needed.

Once in the office he got down to work; he was lucky, Roger had his computer logged on, with saved him a few precious minutes. Tapping at the keyboard, Matt set up a program that would scan through the computer's files, using 'Mello' and 'Matt' as trigger words. It took a few minutes for the program to look through all the data, but then it bleeped, and opened up all the relevant files.

There were masses of data; all of his and Mello's scores since they'd been at Wammy's, which in Mello's case dated back more than a decade ago. Matt quickly shut all the windows pertaining to that, which left him with two documents, containing their real names and background history. Without pausing to read through it, other than to confirm he had the right files, he clicked print, then set about deleting and shredding the data. It was possible Roger had back-up files on other computers, or even in hard copy, but it was better than nothing. Next, he accessed his bank account, transferring most of the funds to another account he quickly created, using a fake identity. It was depressingly easy to do this, when one could alter or create government records at will.

As one of L's potential heirs, he had access to a decent sum of money, but he was sure that Roger would have cut him off once the old man discovered his betrayal. By doing this, he insured himself some fiscal security, and the money would be necessary for him to track down Mello.

Once the printer had spat out the two miserly sheets covering his and Mello's histories, he left quickly, snatching them up as he passed. He hurried once out in the hallway, not wanting to be delayed by someone wanting to know why he wasn't in class, and why he had a backpack and very confidential information in his hands.

It was easy to leave the orphanage, as all the security was focused on preventing anyone from entering the orphanage secretly, rather than preventing someone from leaving. He left through the kitchens, picking up some food and water bottles on the way. He didn't even bother messing with the security cameras, as no one would be watching out for him yet; it would be awhile before his absence was noticed, and he would be well away by then.

As he left the grounds, cutting through the hedges onto a narrow country lane, Matt paused to look back at the place he had thought of as home for the past few years. Shrouded in morning fog, with his still-spinning vision, Wammy's looked like something from a dream or that he'd seen when very young and half-forgotten. He felt a pang of regret at leaving it; it had been the backdrop for some of his best and worst memories, the place where he'd first met Mello, and the place he'd lost him again.

Creeping away in the quiet of a country morning, Matt set off, following road signs and his sense of direction, hoping he'd come to a town before nightfall.

He didn't, but he did find an empty barn to sleep in, and he made himself as comfortable as possible in the scratchy hay. Munching on an apple, he took out Mello's information sheet and started to read, feeling uneasy at the invasion of privacy it seemed to constitute.

Mello had been born known as Miheal Keehl. Matt tried the name out, feeling out the unfamiliar syllables on his tongue, trying to fit them to the blond-haired boy he knew so well. It didn't work; Mello was the only name he'd ever called him, and the name Mello had shared with him. Anyway, Mello wouldn't be going under his real name, not with Kira on the loose, so it didn't particularly matter.

Most of the information on the sheet he knew already, facts like Mello's birthday and nationality. His reasons for ending up in Whammy's were something Mello had never discussed, and Matt didn't blame him after reading the notes. He parents had collapsed, from drug related overdoses; little Mihael had been found a few days after his parents died, in the same apartment as the slowly rotting corpses, once a neighbor became alarmed at the whimpers heard in the flat and called the police, thinking perhaps a dog or something had been left behind when the owners went on holiday.

Nothing had really been gained; all he knew now was there was no family Mello could be going to. Another dead end. He put the sheet back in the rucksack and settled down tiredly to sleep. When he got to a town he could start searching properly. Everyone had to leave tracks, no matter how careful they were; all he had to do was watch the Net and wait for news of a certain blond, blue-eyed tornado wrecking havoc. He was tired, and his head still hurt, but some of pain and grief had been replaced with a sense of purpose. He was not giving up. I will find you, he promised, staring silently into the shadows, and then I will make sure I never lose you again.

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A.N: Poor Matt. :/ Reviews...? :D


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